


Just Like Old Times

by KatesBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatesBrain/pseuds/KatesBrain
Summary: Impatient to separate Voldemort’s soul from the sixth Horcrux, Harry’s attempt to do so doesn’t go quite as planned. Instead, he is forced to deal with the past under rather awkward circumstances. (NB: Harry is 17)- originally posted July 2006





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Enticements: Movie-canon!Remus, angst, depression and sheer flippancy. Oh, and a sappy ending ;-) (but not for Tonks/Remus...)  
> Feedback: My ego loves the stuff, and concrit is always welcome.  
> Notes: Huge thanks to my betas Sue (who gave me the much-needed impetus to change the ending) and Lee. Any mistakes left are due to my own idiocy; please feel free to point them out to me!  
> Disclaimer: The following story is classified as fan fiction. It is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I have merely borrowed them. This has been a non-profit exercise, used mainly to hone my writing skills in story planning, and also to improve my understanding of English grammar and punctuation. And yes, I appreciate that I still have lots to learn...

***

Harry paused by the door, listening to Tonks’s whining voice on the other side.

“Why can’t you love me back?”

“I do,” Remus said—and if Harry was in Tonks’s shoes, he knew that he would not be entirely convinced by this assertion. “But it’s not the same and I never pretended that it would be. You knew how I felt from the beginning; you said that you accepted it.”

“I had hoped…”

So Tonks and Remus were at it, again, having another ‘discussion’. This time it had already been going on for half an hour, and Harry was becoming increasingly jittery with excitement over his discovery. All he needed was for Remus to check through a translation of an ancient text. Remus had promised to help him after placating Tonks—which would be the third time that week—but the last time they had had one of these little talks, it had taken them nearly four hours before they had finished. As far as Harry was concerned, he had waited long enough. Silently pulling the kitchen door closed, he went back upstairs to Sirius’s old room where the silver locket lay waiting for him on the bed.

Over the past year, Remus, Tonks, Ron and Hermione had all been helping Harry to track down anything that had once belonged to the four founders—anything that might have been used as a Horcrux by Voldemort. So far, five of them had all been destroyed in one fashion or another, and now all that was left was the locket. This had been found in Kreacher’s cupboard along with several other items that the house elf had decided to pilfer. Harry had recognised it immediately as the Horcrux that should have been in the cave.

For all Harry knew, Voldemort might already be mortal. It all depended on whether R.A.B. had fulfilled his—or her—vow. But the locket, which had certainly been a Horcrux at some point, was proving to be a bit of an enigma. Due to a powerful Shield Charm that had been placed upon it by persons unknown, they couldn’t even find out whether the soul stored inside had already been destroyed, and if it hadn’t, the Shield Charm was doing a good job of preventing them from doing so now.

Harry had finally found a way around the Shield Charm, or so he hoped.

 _Magicartes_ _Primartes._ It was a book that had been in a box of Sirius’s things, which Harry had taken from Sirius’s Gringott’s vault and brought to Grimmauld Place. Written using a precursor to Latin that was once used by Goblins, the book had evidently been ‘acquired’ by Sirius during his time at school, as _Property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Restricted Section_ was printed inside the front cover. Not having returned to Hogwarts for his final year, Harry resentfully acknowledged that if it was not for Remus pushing him to keep up with his studies, he never would have learned enough to carry out the translation by himself.

Harry hadn’t translated the whole book—just going through a single page had taken him all afternoon. There was no indication why Sirius had stolen the book in the first place, apart from a page where the top corner had been folded over, and on a whim, Harry chose to work on that piece of text:

_ Soul Dislocation - to remove a soul from a vessel, or to switch souls between vessels  _

_The incantation ‘Animae Extorquere’ may be carried out on two vessels separate from the caster, or the caster’s soul may be involved in the exchange._

_If a soul-vessel is not present, the spell can be carried out using a proxy item owned by the soul in question, but a Restriction Charm is essential to limit the scope of the magic through time and space, forcing the magic to use a nearer vessel rather than one which may resonate with the soul more precisely._

_The incantation ‘Animae Extero’ may be used to reverse the effect. But for this to be effective, all souls concerned, including the caster’s, must carry out the incantation._

 

It seemed the perfect thing to use in separating the soul from the locket. The middle section of the page did not make much sense, but not wanting to wait any longer, Harry dismissed it as unimportant. He then rummaged through Sirius’s things once more before pulling out two copies of _Advanced Herbology._ One had obviously been bought as a replacement for the other, as the first was covered in a variety of stains, graffiti—with some very disturbing pictures, which Harry hoped his godfather had _not_ been responsible for—and had several pages torn or missing completely. It was this battered copy that Harry hoped to use. If he was right, the incantation would transfer Voldemort’s soul from the locket to the book, and then both book and soul could be eliminated using a simple spell.

Besides Remus, the only other person who could check his efforts at translation was Hermione. It wouldn’t be long before she finished work and arrived at The Burrow, but Harry had no great desire to contact her there. Whenever Harry had the desire to be patronised—which, surprisingly, was not often—Hermione could be relied upon to fulfil that task. All it took was a request for help, or even just a moment of apparent hesitation, and she would be there giving Her Opinion Which Must Not Be Questioned. How Ron put up with it was beyond him.

Ron was now working at the Ministry, along with Hermione, and it did not take a lot of common sense to realise just who had been the driving force behind Ron taking the position. Although Hermione had insisted that it would be useful to Harry for them both to be working at the Ministry, Harry was positive that this was just a rouse to get Ron’s mind away from thoughts of a Quidditch career. Ron hadn’t actively disagreed with Hermione in months, only giving muted objections every now and then that were always immediately dismissed by her. What really irritated Harry was the lack of Quidditch practice with his best mate: Hermione certainly had her opinions on them having fun when they should be spending every last second dedicated to saving the world.

Part of Harry wished that Ron and Hermione would start arguing again—anything from a break in the monotony of domineering relationships that surrounded him. At least he had managed to avoid being stuck in one himself. All he had to put up with was Ginny’s incessant sulking, and luckily, he had a respite from that, because she had gone to stay with Charlie in Romania for a couple of weeks.

Shaking his head to clear the negative train of thought before it really took hold, Harry found the page and drew his wand. It was time to sort out the locket once and for all.

As he said the incantation, Harry quickly became aware of the sheer amount of power that seemed to flow through his wand; there was no option of him putting any refinement into his casting, and he could only sit back and let it happen. He watched as a stream of purple light rushed out from the end of his wand and hit the locket; a slight twitch from his wrist, and the stream connected to the Herbology text book. His wand started to shake in his grasp and he held on tighter, his knuckles turning white from the effort. Then all of a sudden, the locket shattered with a bang, and the purple light rebounded, striking Harry hard in the centre of his chest.

**

The _Daily Prophet_ lay on the table in front of him and his eyes gazed down at the page, but Remus couldn’t focus on any of the words. He _had_ intended to spend his time thinking about the issue of Horcruxes, because something did not quite add up. But right now, he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the latest bewildering conversation with Tonks.

He could not remember regretting anything as much as his decision to start dating Tonks. At the time, everyone had had an opinion on the subject, and it had been far too easy to be pushed into the unwanted situation. He had opened up to Tonks after Sirius’s death, admitting to something that was generally frowned upon in the heterosexist wizarding world, and he had mistakenly thought that she had taken it all in.

Remus knew from the start that a relationship with her would not be easy, and she had told him that it didn’t matter. But as time went by, Remus was left wondering exactly what part of ‘I am still in love with Sirius’ she had trouble understanding. It was definitely time to call it a day, for her sake, as well as for the sake of his sanity.

He gave a short, hollow laugh at the thought of ending his relationship with Tonks. He could imagine what Molly would have to say about it—not that her opinion should matter, but, good god, that woman loved to stick her nose into other people’s business.

The sudden appearance of Arthur Weasley’s head in the fireplace brought Remus sharply out of his reverie.

“Remus, are you all right? Grimmauld Place has just lit up on the Ministry’s magic sensors like a Christmas tree.”

“What about the Fidelius Charm?”

“Whatever’s happened has just wiped the Fidelius out of existence. I think you should get out of there: it could be You-Know-Who’s work. Floo to The Burrow—the Protection Charms are still intact there. I’ll see if I can find out anything more, and I’ll meet you at home after I’ve finished work.”

Remus hurried out of the kitchen, sticking his head around the library door to let Tonks know what was going on. He then ran upstairs to get Harry, who was sitting on the floor of Sirius’s room, gazing down at a book and swaying from side to side. Next to him were the charred remains of the silver locket.

“You’ve done it,” Remus said with an enthused smile, but Harry didn’t seem to register that Remus was there. “Harry?” Still, there was no acknowledgement, and Remus grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him upright. Harry’s legs buckled and Remus nearly fell backwards from the extra weight that had slumped against him. “We have to get out of here.”

To Remus’s surprise, Harry frowned at him and said in a slurred voice, “Bloody hell, Remus, when did you get so old?”

Harry was not well known for randomly insulting people, but Remus didn’t have time to think about this sudden change in attitude. They needed to get away from Grimmauld Place before any Death Eaters arrived. Resigned to not getting any sense out of Harry, Remus dragged him downstairs and out through the front door to where Tonks was waiting.

“Do you think you can Apparate to The Burrow?” he asked Harry.

“Where?”

“Just hold onto my arm.”

There was a brief moment of panic as they had problem trying to Apparate, and then it was over and the three of them were hurtling towards the safety of The Burrow. Harry collapsed when they arrived at the end of the Weasley’s driveway, and Remus had to levitate him past the boundaries of the Protection Charms all the way to the house, where Molly was anxiously waiting. She bustled about, making the tea and repeatedly asking Remus and Tonks what had happened as Remus did his best to bring Harry round. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him that Remus, Tonks or Molly could tell, but Remus couldn’t help feeling that they were missing something.  

Finally, Harry sat up of his own accord and helped himself to Remus’s mug of tea. “I appreciate the fuss and the tea,” he said blithely, as if he hadn’t been unconscious only minutes beforehand. “But why do you keep calling me Harry?”

**


	2. Chapter 2

It was as though Harry had been pinned down by a crushing weight on the centre of his chest.  Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on the room, but all he could make out was a mishmash of hazy shapes.  He automatically groped around for his glasses and was surprised to find he was no longer sitting on carpet but on a bed.  Had Remus or Tonks moved him there?  He couldn't remember.  In an attempt to sit upright, he pushed with his arms, determinedly ignoring the sharp flares of pain through his ribcage, but he didn’t succeed in getting more than halfway before his head started to spin.  With a sigh, he slumped back on the bed and figured that he would be better off closing his eyes for a while and waiting until he didn’t feel so rough before he tried to move again.

Harry drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.  When he woke, the pain in his chest had subsided, but he was still feeling groggy and his head throbbed.  Being woken by someone shouting at him certainly didn’t help.

“Oi!  Get up you lazy oaf.  Transfiguration starts in a few minutes.”

Harry cracked open one eye and gasped.  He had to be hallucinating.  Standing in front of him was his father, his  _teenage_  father.

“Sirius, move!  You’re already in McGonagall’s bad books after the stunt you tried to pull last week.  If you’re late, she’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks.”

It took a few seconds for Harry to realise that James had just called him by his godfather’s name.  Then Harry noticed that he was in the dormitory at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t the room he used to sleep in: the view through the window looked out over an entirely different part of the castle grounds.  He guessed the translation could have done with being a little more accurate.

“I must be dreaming,” he said with a slur.  If he wasn’t dreaming, then it meant he was stuck in the past looking like Sirius, which could not be a good thing.

“Then wake up you daft bugger.”

“I wish I knew how to wake up.  Perhaps I’m going mad.”

“I thought we decided a long time ago that you couldn’t be anything but completely nuts, not with your in-bred family.”  James took him by the hand and yanked him upright.  “Let’s get going.”

Not knowing what else to do, Harry followed his father out of the room.  James stopped at the top of the stairs and gave him a look of impatience.

“What about your bag?”

“My bag?”

“Yes.  Bag.  You haven’t been hexed by Snivellus, have you?”

“No.  I, er, I’ll just get it.”

Shuffling back into the room, Harry saw that there was a black rucksack leaning up against the bed he had been lying on.  With no other bag in sight, Harry grabbed it.

As they made their way to the Transfigurations classroom, James ranted about Snape and kept giving Harry sidelong glances, as if considering that Snape really had hexed him.  He didn’t seem to require any response, and Harry was grateful for this, because it left him free to think about what had happened. 

Obviously, the spell he’d attempted had gone wrong, but he was at a loss to explain why he had been sent here.  Whatever the reason, he had to reverse the spell, which was easier said than done.  He couldn’t remember the correct incantation and the book was still in Grimmauld Place, in the future.

“Peter had the idea of transfiguring him into a gargoyle.  A few days stuck on the roof of the castle should sort out Snivellus a treat.  What do you think?”

“Huh?”

“Sirius, what is wrong with you today?  No.  Don’t answer that.  I really don’t want to know what’s going through that thick skull of yours at the moment.”

They turned a corner and Harry saw two Hufflepuffs coming from the other direction.  James lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Hexing Snivellus into a gargoyle.  Are you up for it?”

“Of course!  The Stone Gargoyle,” Harry exclaimed in relief.  Dumbledore was still alive; it would be unsettling to see him again, but surely he would be able to help.

“Sirius, keep your bloody voice down.”

“I’ve got to go.  I’ll…I’ll be along later.”

Harry turned and left James in the corridor looking bewildered.

“Fine,” James called out after him.  “You get yourself another detention.  See if I care.”

The only worry Harry had about seeing Dumbledore was if he tried Legilimancy and found out something about the future.  Harry had been practicing his Occlumency skills over the past year, but the most he could do was to keep his mind closed off for a few seconds and even that took all of his concentration and willpower to do.  He would just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any attempts at mind-reading before he had explained the situation.  Then he could borrow Dumbledore’s Pensieve, get the counter-spell through his memory and he would be able to go home.

If only it was that easy.

The first problem was that he did not know the password, and so he was forced to wait beside the Stone Gargoyle for Dumbledore to come down from his office.  Waiting had never been one of Harry’s strong points—if it had, he would not have been in this mess in the first place.  He started to pace back and forth along the corridor, fiddling with the straps of Sirius’s bag and wondering for the first time where the real Sirius Black could be.

“Oho!”

He jumped at the unexpected voice and whipped round on the spot to see Professor Slughorn approaching.  Just like the one he had seen in Dumbledore’s Penseive, this Slughorn had thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and a gingery-blond moustache, except that his hair was starting to go grey in places and the bald patch was wider.  He had also taken to sweeping some longer strands of hair across his head in an effort to hide the baldness.  Harry tried his best not to stare, or laugh.

“Sirius, shouldn’t you be in lessons?”

“I need to see Professor Dumbledore.”

“Well, you’ll be here a long time.  He’s got some business to attend to in Russia.”

“When’s he coming back?”

“In a couple of weeks—three at the most, I should think.  Is it anything I can help with?”

“Er, no.  But thanks anyway.”

Letting his feet scuff along the floor, Harry walked back towards the abandoned Transfiguration class, appalled that he would have to stay in the past for so long before he could get any help.  He would have to pretend to be Sirius and not do anything that could change the future.  Surely it would not be too difficult.

**

Remus was pacing back and forth across the rug in the Weasley's house, thinking about what Harry could have done to destroy the locket that could also have such an impact on him mentally.  He felt as if he should know something, that there was a clue hidden in his own memory somewhere, but none of his recollections of the past few days provided him with any answers.

“You just lie back, dear,” Molly was saying, looking unsettled by Harry’s words and smoothing out her apron nervously.  “I’ll look in the cupboard and see if I’ve got anything to help clear your head.”

While Molly was rummaging through bottles of potions, Arthur arrived by Floo from the Ministry.  He had his arms full of paperwork, which he dropped in a haphazard pile onto the kitchen table.  

“Oh, thank goodness you made it here,” he said as he hung up his coat.  “The Ministry sent a couple of officials over to investigate, but the Dark Mark was already hovering over the house and they haven’t been able to get the front door open.  Did you have any trouble getting out?”

“No,” Remus said with a shake of his head.  Turning to Harry, he asked, “Can you remember how you destroyed the locket?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry replied defensively.  “It was already like that.  It wasn’t my fault.”

“But you must’ve done something.”

“I didn’t!”

“Here, drink this, Harry,” Molly said, and she handed over a vial of blue liquid.  “It’ll help you to remember.”

“I’m not Harry,” he snapped, stubbornly putting the vial down onto the floor with a bang.  “Stop calling me that.”

The room fell silent, and Remus mentally kicked himself once more for not being able to work out what happened.  But he was at a loss to explain it, and the one person who could tell them now believed he was someone else.

“If you’re not Harry, then who are you?”  Remus asked.

“Don’t you recognise me, Moony?”

Remus came to a halt mid-stride.  The last person to call him by that name was Sirius, and it sounded alien coming from Harry’s mouth.  Several moments passed before Remus could bring himself to answer. 

“You look like Harry to me.”

“But I’m Sirius.  Sirius Black.”

“That’s not funny.”  It was Tonks who had spoken this time, sounding angry and hurt.  She glared at Remus accusingly.  “You said he didn’t know—that no-one knew.”

“Knew what, dear?” Molly asked.

But Tonks just ignored her and shouted, “How dare you do this to me—to us,” before storming upstairs with Molly following close behind.

“What is her problem?” Harry asked with an unsympathetic laugh.

Remus took a deep breath and walked over to the stove.  There was no way he was going to elucidate on the matter in front of Arthur, and he really hoped that Tonks was not in the process of enlightening Molly.

“I’ll, er, I’ll make another pot of tea,” he muttered.

As far as practical jokes went, he thought this was pretty low, especially for someone like Harry.  Even if he had found out about the relationship between Remus and his godfather, and hated the thought of them together, Remus found it hard to believe that Harry would react in such a bizarre way.

“Do you have any, er, proof that you are who you say you are?” Arthur asked.

"I know about Remus's furry little problem."

"Try telling me something that Harry doesn’t know," Remus replied stonily.

Harry didn’t respond immediately.  His gaze flickered between Arthur and Remus, and then he smiled slyly, made his way over to where Remus was standing and whispered in Remus’s ear.

“I know you have a birthmark right next to your bollocks.  It’s in the shape of a butterfly and you love having me lick it.”

To say that the evidence given was unexpected was to put it mildly.  Remus swayed unsteadily on his feet, his head starting to swim, and the mug he had been holding fell to the floor and shattered.  Mumbling an apology to Arthur, he sat down heavily at the kitchen table, resting his face in his hands.  Unless Harry had become adept at Legilimancy or Sirius had previously confided in him, there was no way he could have known something so personal. 

“You believe me, then?” Harry—no, Sirius—asked, seeming uncertain for the first time since they had arrived at The Burrow.

Remus nodded, unable to speak.  He couldn’t believe this was happening to him for a second time.  To have Sirius taken away from him twice, and now, this… well, it just wasn’t fair.

“What do you remember before I found you with the broken locket?” he said, willing his voice not to come out as an undignified squeak.

“I was at Hogwarts, catching up on some sleep during the lunch break.”

“What year was it?”

“Nineteen seventy-six.”

“Remus,” Arthur prompted when Remus didn’t say anything further.  “What’s going on?”

“I think I know where Harry is,” Remus said with a wince.  He hoped that he was wrong.

**


	3. Chapter 3

The food at Hogwarts was just as tasty as in his own time, Harry gratefully acknowledged as he filled his plate with a third helping of suet pudding and custard. Gorging himself might not be a proven device for travelling into the future, but it certainly made him feel better.

“At least your appetite’s not been affected,” Remus said, commenting yet again on Harry’s un-Sirius-like behaviour.

Remus grinned and gave Harry another one of those ‘odd’ looks. Harry didn’t know how else to describe them. He had seen Remus and Sirius share similar looks at Grimmauld Place, and hadn’t thought anything of them at the time. But it was another thing entirely to have that intense gaze directed straight at him.

He had always assumed that James and Sirius had the closest friendship out of the four marauders, not unlike his friendship with Ron. But in the short time that Harry had been stuck in the past, it was clear that Remus was just as comfortable around Sirius as James was, if not more so. For some reason that Harry couldn’t yet fathom, this left him feeling rather uneasy. And while Remus had been friendly enough towards Harry during the lesson, James had had his attentions directed elsewhere. Towards Lily, and quite unsuccessfully, it seemed.

Harry’s mum was just as outspoken as she had been in the memory in Snape’s pensieve, constantly biting back at James’s lurid remarks and leaving Harry wondering why his dad hadn’t given up long before. It also left him feeling tangled inside to see his mum and dad so close and yet so far away from him personally; it wasn’t as if he could talk to them as himself, and this was starting to grate on his nerves. But no matter how tempted he was to try another tack—to approach Lily and have a private conversation so he could find out more about her—he knew it would be a bad idea. He wasn’t being such a convincing Sirius as it was.

His Transfigurations skills were atrocious, for a start—and much worse than usual, despite having received an 'E' for his Transfiguration OWL nearly two years previously. Harry could only ascribe this to having to use Sirius’s wand. And what was worse than just losing some of his ability, he didn’t have anywhere near the skill that the others expected Sirius to have. The lesson had been punctuated by a good deal of ribbing by James and Remus, and McGonagall had seemed very disappointed with his work in class. Peter had been the only one to show him any sort of sympathy, which was another twist for Harry to get his head around.

Although Peter idolised James much more than was healthy—leading him to blindly agree with all suggestions that James made, however idiotic some of them were—he came across as far more concerned about Sirius’s wellbeing than Harry expected. He asked Harry if he was feeling ill and if he wanted to borrow his notes after the lesson. The whole time that James was trying to impress Lily, Peter was more than happy to make companionable conversation, and Harry did his best to respond in kind, fighting the urge to either throw up in disgust or hex Peter on the spot.

Because Harry had been late for the lesson, he had received a detention, which was to be taken the following Wednesday lunchtime. This wasn’t too much of a problem, as Harry knew that Sirius and James had a reputation for getting into trouble. But James had an issue with Harry’s lack of an attempt to get out of it. Apparently, Sirius would always do his best to get out of the punishment by charming the teacher concerned, despite the fact that he was usually unsuccessful on this front. Even if Harry had known this, there was no way he could have brought himself to try sweet talking McGonagall: just the mere thought of it left him shuddering.

Two weeks were starting to seem more and more like an eternity.

After dinner, Harry kept quiet all the way back to the dormitory, feigning a headache and hoping the others would accept this as a reasonable excuse for his behaviour. It took him a few seconds to remember what bed was Sirius’s, and as soon as he was sure, he lay down and pretended to doze while the others talked. But when someone sat next to him, making the bed dip, he couldn’t resist opening his eyes to see who it was and what they wanted. It was Remus, with that odd expression on his face again.

“Sorry for taking the piss in McGonagall’s class,” he said, sounding almost too sincere. “But you can hardly blame me: you never miss an opportunity to have a dig at anyone. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

“No, just tired.”

Remus reached over and ran a hand affectionately through Harry’s hair, startling him somewhat: he and Ron had never been comfortable to show their friendship in this way. Then Remus turned to give James and Peter a pointed look.

“Okay,” James said, raising his hands in an exasperated gesture. “We get the hint. Come on, Peter; we know when we’re not welcome.”

The two of them exited the dormitory, leaving Harry alone with Remus. Harry didn’t have time to think about this, about why James and Peter would feel it necessary to leave him and Remus alone: Remus had already kissed him.

It was brief—a slight brushing together of lips—and then Remus moved to lie alongside him on the bed.   Harry, on the other hand, was frozen rigid.

His godfather…his godfather had been _dating_ Remus Lupin. Harry fervently hoped that it hadn’t been anything too intimate—just a bit of harmless fun between friends, perhaps. But Remus was now running his hand across Harry’s belly and up his side, leaning in at the same time to kiss and suck along his neck. Harry felt decidedly nauseous at the thought of doing anything sexual with Remus Lupin.

“Are you _too_ tired?” Remus murmured against Harry’s skin, his hand now pulling Harry’s shirt from his trousers.

“Yeah, I’m shattered,” Harry replied instantly, making a point to yawn over the top of his words.

“Fine, you lazy bugger. You just lay back, enjoy and let me do all the work.”

It wasn’t exactly the reply that Harry wanted to hear—that would have been more along the lines of: “Okay, Sirius, let’s not do anything sexual tonight… In fact, wouldn’t it be a good idea for us to have a break for a couple of weeks?” Harry didn’t have a clue how he was going to do this. It was one thing to pretend to be in a relationship, but another thing entirely to pretend to be involved with a younger version of his very male ex-Defence teacher.

When Remus kissed him for a second time, Harry tried his best to kiss back, pushing their mouths together in what he hoped would resemble enthusiasm. Remus swiped his tongue across Harry’s lower lip, and Harry was instantly flooded with memories of kissing Ginny. He had a huge urge to flinch at those unwanted recollections, but he fought it and kept going, sliding their tongues together and reminding himself over and over that he had no choice in the matter. But it was when Remus brought his hand round to the front of Harry’s trousers, cupped his very flaccid penis and squeezed that Harry really couldn’t take any more. With one decisive shove, he sent Remus flying backwards onto the floor and bolted for the door.

**

After sitting on the front step of The Burrow for so long, Remus was starting to get cold, but he didn't think it would be prudent for him and Sirius to go back inside just yet.

Hermione and Ron had arrived from work a short while earlier, having their usual version of a domestic that involved Hermione persistently badgering Ron until he buckled. Then to Remus’s immense relief, Molly had come downstairs to say that Tonks was refusing to tell her anything. He quickly cut Molly off short while she was saying this, as he was worried that Sirius would recognise Tonks's name. From now on, they could only refer to her simply as 'T' if Sirius was in the room.

With the amount of people bustling about and getting increasingly frantic over what had happened to Harry, Sirius had become surly and unresponsive. Knowing that a surly and unresponsive Sirius usually led to less than tactful outbursts, Remus suggested that they went outside to talk. Talking had so far consisted of Sirius pestering Remus about Harry and also for information about the future.

“But you can let me know what happens to _me_ , though? The future me, I mean.”

"I can't tell you," Remus repeated for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It was irritating, to say the least, that Sirius was so excited by the prospect of finding out how he ended up in life. "We can't risk you knowing and changing the timelines," he added bitterly, wanting to do exactly the opposite and warn Sirius what was to come.

"And Harry is in the past…in my body?" Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he narrowed his eyes at Remus. Remus knew instantly what Sirius was thinking about, even before he added, "You didn't…did you?"

"I thought he was you," Remus admitted, hanging his head in shame. It could be worse, he supposed: Sirius was still blissfully unaware that Harry was his godson.

He thought back to their time at Hogwarts and considered the way Sirius had behaved in their later years. Sirius was always slightly off-balance, but with hindsight, Remus could see that Sirius had been blatantly out of sorts for a while, even compared to usual.

"I thought you were having me on at the time,” he said. “You…he insisted that I had to get a book for him. I can't remember what one it was, though."

"So, he casts the spell and then I'll get sent back, right?"

"I don't think it works like that. In theory, as it's in the past, it should have already happened, and the two of you should have switched back while we were still at Gri—" Remus stopped short. He didn't want to announce where they had been, and he hoped that Sirius had been too out of it at the time to notice. "While we were still at the other place," he finished.

"I know where I was, Remus: I'd recognise the hell-hole of my parents' house any day. What were you doing there?"

"I _can't_ tell you."

"Fine." Sirius glared at him before scuffing his shoes on the path. "There was a book on the floor of Grimmauld Place," he added in a tone that made it clear that Remus was going to have to work for any further information.

Remus couldn't be bothered. He didn't have the energy or the inclination to play games, and he knew only too well that playing games with Sirius was a risky sport at the best of times.

"Doesn't matter," Remus muttered. "It's too dangerous to go back there now, anyway."

"Why?"

"I can't…. Sirius, please trust me."

"Oh, of course, that should be _so_ easy for me to do when you refuse to tell me a damn thing!"

"Why can't you understand that if I told you, it would change the past— _you_ would change things? And…and I want to say what happened; oh God, I want you to know, to warn you, but…there's too much at stake. We've come so far…. Harry is almost there…. It's nearly over…" Remus trailed off. How could he possibly explain without saying too much? He could imagine that all he had said so far had only been an incomprehensible waffle as far as Sirius was concerned. But it seemed to be enough, for now: Sirius had gone back to looking thoughtful.

"It was _Magicartes_ _Primartes_ —the name of the book," Sirius said after a few minutes of silence. "You might not be able to get it from Grimmauld Place, but there should be another copy floating around somewhere."

"Thank you."

“So if he’s back there doing stuff with you, does that mean I can have my wicked way with you now?”

“It…it wouldn’t be…appropriate," Remus stuttered at the unexpected proposition. He wanted nothing more than to be able to hold Sirius once more, but it wasn't possible, not like Sirius intended. He tried to explain, unable to stop his voice from pitifully breaking as he did so. "You’re…you’re in Harry’s body, and…and things are different now.”

“But you want to. And it’s still me, underneath.”

At that moment, Remus was painfully aware of this last point and it was all he could do to hold himself back. He said nothing, knowing that his words would make this obvious and that Sirius would not be able to resist taking advantage at the slightest opportunity.

“It’s _her_ , isn’t it?”

"What?"

"That mad bint, T—the one who shouted at me and ran off. You're seeing her, aren't you."

“Sirius, please. I…I’m tired. I need to sleep. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“What makes you think I’ll still be here in the morning?”

Remus snapped his head up and stared at Sirius, trying to gage if he meant what he was saying. Performing a disappearing act would not be the most helpful thing he could do, but if anyone was capable of being so damn awkward, it was Sirius.

"You can't leave," Remus said. He did his best to sound determined and forceful, but failed miserably.

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous. You don't understand what's happened."

"Then make me understand."

"I don't know how, not without saying too much. You have to believe me."

“How can I believe you when you don’t tell me anything?”

“Trust me, please.” Remus knew he was now begging, but it was late and he was tired, and he needed to know that Sirius wouldn't do anything stupid while they slept.

“Not until I’ve had a taste of that thing on your upper lip.”

“Sirius—”

“I promise to be a good boy and stay put, but you've got to put out for me first.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep the headache that threatened at bay. Sirius meant what he was saying, that much was clear to Remus. A kiss for overnight reassurance. Surely it wouldn't be that hard to go through with, Remus thought. He glanced up at the window to make sure that no one could see them, and then he looked back at Sirius in Harry's body, which held Lily's eyes and James's face. If only he wasn't too exhausted to think of another way.

Sirius grinned and immediately leaned in for the kill, not waiting for any possible change of heart. He made straight for Remus's moustache, toying with it in curiosity with his lips and tongue and making noises of surprised appreciation. Meanwhile Remus resisted the urge to pull him in close and do things to Harry’s body that would probably haunt him—and Harry, if he ever found out—for the rest of his life. Then Sirius’s exploration was over, and it was lips on lips, tongue teasing tongue, Sirius clasping the back of his head and Sirius's overly-enthusiastic mouth taking Remus back in time, back to when Sirius used to kiss like that at school, all eagerness and hormones, no time or inclination for subtlety or tenderness.

They broke apart and Remus struggled to keep control as he realised his face was now damp. Thank God it wasn’t his trousers.

**


	4. Chapter 4

***

Harry did not know where he was headed; he just wanted to get away from Remus. And when he saw James and Peter’s matching expressions of puzzlement at seeing him in the common room, Harry knew he would have to get away from them, as well. So he ran from Gryffindor Tower and headed straight for the Room of Requirement.

Remus had kissed him. Remus had touched his…his _penis_. Yes, Remus _had_ thought that he was touching Sirius, but when Harry thought about it this way, he couldn’t say whether it made him feel better or worse about the situation. One thing he was sure about was that he could not do it: he could not fake being Remus’s boyfriend. There had to be a way to avoid it.

He had made it to the seventh floor, and even before he reached the stretch of corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy was hung, it was obvious that the Room of Requirement was no longer an option. The sound of cackling resonated along the corridor, and as he cautiously peered round the corner, he could see Peeves kicking the paintings that hung on the same wall as the tapestry. The paintings swung wildly from side to side, leaving the remaining inhabitants looking more than a little sea sick.

Harry turned back the way he came, and instead, opted for an empty classroom.

Two weeks, possibly three. He contemplated the idea of breaking up with Remus for that time and making up with him just before he returned. Would that change history too much? Would Remus want to get back with Sirius after being turned away for so long? And what possible reason could Harry give for wanting to do so?

He shook his head; he didn’t fancy his chances of pulling that off without altering the timelines. There had to be a better solution to his current dilemma. At least he had time to think about it: he didn’t have to be back in the Tower for another couple of hours yet.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open, banging loudly on the wall as it swung inwards and making Harry’s heart leap wildly in his chest. It was James clutching the Marauders map, and he didn’t look happy. In two long, decisive strides, James covered the distance between them, and just as quickly, he had pulled back his free hand and punched Harry in the face.

“What was that for?” Harry asked, tentatively poking at his left cheek.

“Pushing Remus away like you did,” James spat, drawing his fist back as if ready to hit Harry again. “What the devil is up with you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel right.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before, and just like last time, it happens to be at Remus’s expense.   You might be my best mate, but I won’t let you mess around with his head, not again. Either you give me a damn good reason for giving him the brush-off, or you go and apologise, or I’m going to hex you into next week.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to this. He had no reasons that he could give, and he had no immediate desire to be hexed by his dad. Like it or not, he would have to apologise to Remus. And going by the way James was impatiently tapping the map against his thigh, Harry guessed that it would have to be done straight away.

“I really don’t know what came over me. I’ve felt off all day,” Harry began in a hurried and haphazard way as he tried to stall for time. “I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. I should have just said….” He trailed off, not knowing what else he could have done given the circumstances.

“Well, you’ve been acting strange all afternoon. I still think Snape’s done something to you—I bet he put something in your food at lunchtime. After your crappy efforts in Transfiguration, even McGonagall commented on how funny you’re behaving.”

McGonagall. She certainly wasn’t Dumbledore and Harry wasn’t sure that he should trust her with something like this, but considering all that he was faced with, he was willing to give her a try. He moved towards the door and immediately had his way barred by James.

“I need to see McGonagall,” Harry said, hunting round for a plausible reason. “I’m gonna try to get out of that detention. I should’ve done that earlier.”

“You need to see Pomfrey, more like.” But James didn’t move to let Harry pass.

“I’ll talk to Remus as soon as I’ve seen her, I promise.”

“You don’t need to promise, Sirius. I’ll make sure that you’ll be talking to him.”

As they made their way to find McGonagall, Harry did worry whether James had intentions of following him into her office. But after knocking on the door and having McGonagall glaring down at them—apparently, because it _was_ them—James mumbled that he’d be waiting in the corridor.

 

McGonagall clicked the door closed after Harry had entered, and strode to the other side of her desk, which was littered with reams of parchment, inks of various colours and three different sized quills.

“Well, Mr Black, as you can see I’m rather busy this evening. What it is you want?”

“I’m not Sirius Black,” Harry began. He didn’t have a clue how he was going to proceed from there, but he figured that as long as he got the most important details out of the way, if she needed to know anything else they could come to that, as and when. But to his surprise, McGonagall spoke up before he had the chance to say anything else.

“Not again.” Her tone was curt and icy, and Harry could swear that she was now sending mental daggers right at his heart. “So who are you this time? An unsuspecting first year Hufflepuff? A villager kidnapped from Hogsmeade?”

“No. I’m from the future,” Harry stuttered, frowning at the fact that she did not seem surprised in the slightest by his proclamation and feeling slightly anxious at the way she had said ‘this time’. Second by second, Harry could see the anger welling up on her face. “I can’t tell you who I am, because I don’t want to affect the timelines—”

“SIRIUS BLACK, I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH!” She shouted at him in a sudden explosion, which appeared to have shocked her almost as much as him. She collected herself together for a moment and then continued. “What do you hope to achieve by this excuse? Were you planning on telling me that they start lessons at a different time in the future? Perhaps they use different Transfiguration techniques—hence why your attempts in my lesson today were so appalling?” Despite having calmed down somewhat after her initial outburst, McGonagall still seemed ready to hex him. Harry wondered if she was angry enough to send him much further into the future than just next week, as James had promised. “Trying to pull this type of stunt once was bad enough, and to think I even considered a second year was capable of brewing the Polyjuice Potion…. This time, you have gone too far. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you will serve detention with me every Wednesday lunchtime until the end of term.”

She marched back across the room and threw open the door, making it clear that the meeting was over. “Be grateful there are only three weeks left,” she added as Harry inched past her.

“So it went well, then?” James asked as soon as McGonagall was back in her office and out of earshot. He had a knowing smirk plastered across his face and had evidently overheard McGonagall’s shouting.

“I hate everything.”

“Look on the bright side. Remus will find it amusing that you’ve pissed off McGonagall so spectacularly, and that can only help when you grovel to him for behaving like a prick earlier.”

“I still hate everything," Harry repeated, fighting off the overwhelming urge to tell his father to piss off.

**

Remus felt distinctly uncomfortable after kissing Sirius, and he knew that if they stayed outside, alone, for much longer, there was a danger of him doing much worse. Hurriedly drying his face on his sleeve, he stood up and announced that it was time to go back indoors.

Inside, Molly was busy arranging bedrooms. Sirius was left to his own devices in Fred and George's old bedroom, but not before Remus took away Harry's wand, excusing his actions by saying, "I know what you're like with temptation." After a moment's thought, Remus also decided to make all the accessible mirrors opaque, because Sirius was bound to recognise Harry's features—Sirius would not notice that Remus had done this: he had never bothered with mirrors at Hogwarts, much to James’s annoyance.

As far as the book was concerned, no one had heard of _Magicartes Primartes_ , and considering the lateness of the hour, they all agreed to wait until morning before deciding what to do.

When Remus arrived in the room he was to share with Tonks, he found her sitting on the bed, still fully dressed.

She stared blankly at him and said, "It's really him, isn't it."

Closing the door gently behind him, Remus nodded, hoping that she did not want to have another ‘discussion’ at this time of night.

"How am I supposed to compete?"

"Tonks, don’t do this. It's not worth it: he's seventeen, he's in _Harry's_ body…." Remus trailed off, not knowing whether he was saying this for Tonks's benefit or to convince himself that nothing else could happen between him and Sirius. He was not convinced in the slightest.

"I thought," she continued, "given time, you’d stop using him as an excuse and you’d get over this… this _thing_ of yours. But now he's back and it seems that you're too wrapped up in the past to give me a second glance. I wish he would just go, leave us alone.”

As much as he wanted to agree with Tonks, to say that he wished that Sirius would go back to his own time, Remus could not bring himself to lie. Instead, he remained silent as they both undressed, with Tonks looking utterly dejected and making him feel even guiltier about his illicit kiss he had shared with Sirius.

She slid beneath the covers, and he joined her, sinking into her embrace and appreciating the comfort that was being offered.

"I wish I could stop the way I feel about you," she said, squeezing him that much tighter in her arms, as if trying to fuse their two bodies together.

"I'm sorry."

Remus wondered whether being in bed with Tonks was wrong, whether he was just adding to his list of sins by continuing to be with her. But the warmth and the closeness were reassuring, even if falsely so, and he was reluctant to walk away from something so freely given.

She started to kiss his shoulders, at the same time stroking his back and rubbing her curves against his lean frame. As she worked her way upwards, his lips met hers and they kissed like strangers who were desperate to make any sort of a connection, just for the sake of being with someone. He told himself that they could work it out, that perhaps this happening was good thing, because it would help Tonks to acknowledge how he felt for Sirius. She'd stop taking his past relationship for granted. She, with her rounded body and softer skin, would start to realise how much he missed her cousin, with his angles and hair and….

He punched the mattress in frustration. Even now, alone in bed with Tonks—a time when he'd always been able to switch off from his memories—the image of his former lover was far too clear in his mind. He slumped back onto the pillow and let out a sigh of resignation as she futilely tried to coax a reaction out of him.

"I can't, not tonight."

Tonks pushed herself up onto her elbows, saying, "You're still thinking about him, aren't you. Can't you just stop for—"

"I can't switch off how I feel," he snapped, immediately regretting his over-reaction when Tonks glared at him coldly. "I don't know what you expect from me, but I'm not over him and having had him taken from me twice, I'm not sure I ever will be.

"Tonks, before, when I told you I was too poor, I didn't just mean money. Don't you understand? Emotionally, I have almost nothing to give you, especially today."

He could see her eyes glistening as she moved in the bed, turning her back on him. Cocooning herself in the duvet, she faced the wall in a foetal position, sniffling softly. It was a long while before either of them fell asleep.

**


	5. Chapter 5

***

“I’m just having a bad day…er, James,” Harry said as he dragged his feet along the corridor, wondering if he was ever going to get used to speaking to his dad like this.

As Harry expected, James was escorting him to Gryffindor Tower. James also insisted on chatting all the way, trying to find out why there was an issue with Remus in the first place. Harry still wasn’t doing too well at being, well, Sirius-like, and this only seemed to spur James on with his interrogation.

“It’s as if you’re hiding something,” James continued. “You've never kept stuff from me before—even all that shit that you and Remus get up to, which I really wish you wouldn't share."

And, of course, his dad would have to keep saying things like that, things that Harry found fundamentally disturbing and in a way that he really didn’t want to analyse too heavily. Gritting his teeth, he continued in silence, refusing to be drawn in to the conversation any further. It was odd, but making it to the dormitory and finding Remus apparently engrossed in a Herbology textbook was a bit of a relief. At least his dad would now leave him in peace.

Remus didn't look up when they entered; instead he ignored the intrusion, keeping a dedicated silence as Harry hesitated in the doorway. A sharp prod in the small of his back told Harry that James was still hovering behind him. It was time. Time to do some fast thinking and maybe a little prayer to help ease the way. No matter what happened, he could not risk changing the past. He would have to act ‘normally’ around Remus, whatever that would entail. He was going to do this. He _had_ to do this, for the sake of the future.

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the sickly feeling that welled up inside him, he turned to face James and muttered, “You can go now.”  

"I'll be in the common room if there's a problem, okay Remus?"

Remus finally looked up when James spoke, his face expressionless, and he nodded before promptly returning to his book. As the door closed, Harry began to stutter, trying to find the words that would end this sticky mess.

Continuing to look downwards and leafing through the pages, Remus said, "If you're only here because of Ja--"

"No. I'm sorry, Remus. Really. I haven't been feeling like, well, like myself all day—even you've noticed it—and I just..."

And from there Harry was off on a rambling apologetic waffle. Moments of inspiration hit him, such as James’s suggestion that Remus would find the McGonagall incident funny, which did earn Harry a smile or two. And Remus couldn’t restrain a smirk when he asked about the black eye that was rapidly developing on Harry’s face.

"I deserved it,” Harry continued, “because I was acting like an idiot: thoughtless and selfish."

He meant what he was saying, but not in the way that Remus was assuming. Harry had been thoughtless when it came to considering consequences for the future; he was selfish because he hadn’t respected his godfather's relationship with Remus. He still didn't know if he could do it justice, which presented him with a bit of a problem: no matter how well he seemed to be talking Remus round, he was going to have to come to terms with them getting _intimate_.

It seemed that despite all his words, he was setting himself up for a fall. For a start, how was he going to explain his lack of experience? Was there no other way around the situation? And then he realised that maybe there was another option. Where Dumbledore and McGonagall had so far been of little help, maybe Remus would be the one to really believe him.

“I’m… I didn’t—” Harry faltered mid-flow. How could he tell Remus without saying too much? How could he even begin to explain what was going on? “Oh sod it. Look, the truth is I'm not Sirius. I’m stuck in the past, in Sirius’s body."

"Is that what you said to McGonagall? Because after last week’s prank, I’m not surprised that she gave you those detentions if that was the best you could come up with."

"I'm serious!"

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

It took a moment before Harry recognised his unintended pun. "No, really. Remus, I know a little about the prank because McGonagall mentioned it, but that's all I know. I was telling her the truth. That's why I reacted the way I did. I never realised you and he were... _that_ close. I've only ever kissed two people and both of them were girls, and I've not done much more than kiss."

"Fine," Remus said, but he clearly wasn't buying it. "You're from the future. Whatever you say. I suppose you have a name other than Sirius?"

"Yes, but, er, I don't think I should tell you, in case.... You don't believe me, do you?"

"Do you blame me? Perhaps you should take yourself to the Hospital Wing. I'm sure Pomfrey would be fascinated by your little story."

Harry slumped on the bed, noting Remus’s expressionless moue had reappeared. Had he just made things worse? "I don't need to see Pomfrey."

"No. I guess you've been beyond her help for years."

"Please, Remus, at least believe me when I say I didn't intend to over-react before. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Remus studied him for a while before finally closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. "Okay. I suppose this is your way of making me feel better: coming up with an outright lie?"

Harry felt completely defeated by his failed third attempt at gaining some sort of ally. Staring at the carpet, he nodded and said, “I'm sorry."

Silence ticked by for a few moments, with Harry waiting to see what Remus would do next. Then he felt the bed dip beside him and looked up to see Remus sitting far too close.

"Show me you're sorry," Remus said simply before leaning his face towards Harry's.

They kissed, and Harry did his best: he kissed back, he tried to enjoy it and he tried to show how sorry he was through his actions. Then Remus's arms were snaking around his body, pulling him closer still. They toppled back onto the bed, a leg pressed between Harry’s and he held on tightly, not wanting to acknowledge exactly whose body it was beneath his hands. And it was then that he realised that he was stuck. There were no soft bits to go for, there was no uncharted territory, no breasts or dark, damp places to slide his fingers in, not like there had been with Ginny. Just how was he supposed to go about touching another boy?

Harry stilled. It wasn't going to work. "Stop! I... I don't know what to do," he blurted out.

"Oh, for fu--." Remus trailed off as his expression of disbelief changed to a thoughtful frown followed by a light of recognition—but recognition of what, Harry had no idea. "I don't believe you, Sirius. I don’t fucking believe you. Role-play, right? All this for fucking role-play. So last week's prank has given you ideas? I'll never be able to fathom why you just can't explain what's going through your thick head instead of charging into these seemingly random notions that you come up with. Why didn't you just say last week when you were joking about it? Why all this palaver?"

Harry remained motionless on the bed as Remus knelt alongside him. Keeping his eye fixed on Harry’s, Remus unbuttoned Harry's shirt, and Harry felt the heat rise in his face as Remus smirked at him.

"I quite like this look: Sirius Black, the blushing virgin," Remus said, drawing his fingers across the now-naked chest and down Harry’s belly, making him shudder. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."

Then those hands were smoothing over every last inch of his exposed body, feeling not unlike when Ginny used to touch him, reverently and full of desire. He closed his eyes trying to imagine it _was_ Ginny, but it was hard to ignore the differences: the heavier scent in the room, the hardness of Remus’s fingertips and the way a partially-healed scar on Remus’s forearm would occasionally brush against his stomach.

Remus leant forward and swirled a tongue around his nipple, the warmth and wetness of which Harry couldn’t help but enjoy. Then he gasped when Remus leant back an inch to blow gently across his moistened skin. The other nipple received the same treatment before Remus's hands expertly unbuckled his belt and loosened his trousers, pulling them down and off. Despite the fact that he was never going to be able to look ‘his’ Remus in the eye again once he got back, Harry was left panting from the tingling that permeated his body and in anticipation of what was to come.

Remus's eyes strayed to Harry's groin, where Harry knew the flimsy material of his underpants wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his erection. A hand trailed up the inside of his leg, stopping at the knee and coaxing it to bend outwards. Then, Remus was kissing his way up the inside, as his hands ran up and down the length of Harry's thigh, running over the contours of adolescent muscle, tips of fingers brushing just underneath his underpants, threatening to touch but not quite making it before running down again. Harry groaned and Remus kissed higher and higher, closer and closer, and....

Harry let out a sudden groan as, this time, Remus's fingertips went just a fraction further, brushing against the skin of his balls. He could feel all his muscles tense, the air leaving his body as for a brief moment he forgot how to breathe. Then he melted on the bed before realising with embarrassment that his briefs were wet.

"You haven't come already?" Remus asked, and Harry nodded, feeling decidedly abashed as Remus started to laugh. "I can’t believe you got off so quickly because of a bit of role-play.” He walked up the bed on his knees before lying on his back next to Harry, shoving him over slightly on the small bed, and then scooping a hand inside his trousers to pull out his cock. “It’s my turn, now. Give me your hand."

Reluctantly, but trying not to show it, Harry lifted his right arm, and Remus guided his hand forwards until it touched the warm flesh. Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and curled his fingers around the hardness that waited for him.

Remus leant forwards, breathing, "Wank me off, then," before kissing Harry deeply, his hips beginning to jerk in the air.

Foremost in Harry’s mind was the knowledge that it was Professor Lupin’s penis he was touching. Even pushing that distressing thought to one side, he was finding it difficult to concentrate on kissing at the same time as moving his hand, which was twisted round in a most uncomfortable position. It wasn’t long before Remus let out a hiss of pain and was placing a hand on Harry’s arm, putting a stop to his efforts.

"All right, you've made your point, Sirius. I'm never going to make it as a teacher."

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd it would be if Remus never became a professor at Hogwarts due to an inadequate hand-job. "I think you're going to make a fantastic teacher, Professor Lupin." Remus looked at him askance, and Harry added sincerely, "I’m ser—. I mean it."

He watched as Remus knelt up on the bed to think, and Harry noticed that Remus always had the same studious look when mulling over an idea. It was the same in the future and that obvious expression was something that Harry found rather endearing.

“Sirius, kneel up behind me. Then you can reach round and wank me off as if you were doing it to yourself.”

Following Remus’s new directions, Harry found that it was lot easier to manage in this position, and he was surprised that he didn't feel the need to baulk when Remus encouraged him to use his free hand to toy with Remus's balls.

"Kiss me," Remus groaned as the jerky motion of his hips began to speed up.

"I can't reach."

"On my neck, you daft idiot."

Harry pressed his lips to Remus’s nape, inhaling the tang of unwashed hair. Remus groaned and tilted his head to one side, encouraging Harry to kiss as far round as he could reach.

"Faster. Suck, just there…. Harder..."

Then Remus, too, was coming, and the ordeal was over. Grabbing a box of tissues from the bedside cabinet, Remus wiped himself off before falling back on the bed. Harry was reminded that he was still sticky, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. Not sure how he was feeling—apart from sticky—Harry lay back on the bed as well, listening to Remus's breath as it slowed.

Harry knew that when he got back he would be taking this memory with him to the grave. For a start, he could imagine what Ron would say.... But when Harry thought about this, he realised that he _didn't_ know how Ron felt about that sort of thing, at all. It wasn't something that they had ever discussed. Up until his first kiss with Remus, Harry had never even entertained the thought of himself—or anyone else, for that matter—being with someone of the same sex, let alone talked about it. Ron could have been harbouring secret desires towards him ever since they met for all Harry knew.

It was unsettling to discover that he didn't really mind the notion.

**

The bed was empty and cold when Remus woke. Evidently Tonks had risen at least half an hour earlier and hadn't bothered to rouse him. That didn't bode well, especially after the events of the night before.

As he washed and dressed, he chastised himself for handling everything so badly and for letting the past get the better of him. He was determined not to succumb to the same emotional weaknesses today. Stepping out into the hallway, he decided to check on Sirius and make sure he was still in the house. If so, he'd most likely be unconscious: Sirius had always had problems getting up in their latter years at Hogwarts—if anyone had tried to wake him this morning, Remus would have heard about it.

Sure enough, Sirius was sleeping soundly. Despite his physical appearance, he looked distinctly Sirius-like, sprawled as he was across the bed—just as he used to sleep, both at Hogwarts and afterwards in their flat. It was only after Azkaban that he took to sleeping in a neat little ball. Remus had missed those limbs being spread out in every direction, even though he had spent a good deal of time complaining about the lack of space. Secretly, he had loved the fact that there had never been a moment in the night when he wasn't in contact with some part of Sirius.

He felt his eyes begin to heat up and he chastised himself again, this time for being sentimental. Stepping back to pull the door closed, he stopped short when Sirius lifted his head and smiled a lazy morning grin—something else that had been locked away in Remus's memory.

"You planning on joining me or taking advantage while I slept?"

"It's time for breakfast."

“Do I really have to eat with _them_?" Sirius asked with a sneer. Then his faced brightened and he added, "We could make it a quickie."

"I'll see you in the downstairs."

The tension in his body matched the atmosphere that greeted Remus when he stepped into the kitchen and sat down to eat the toast that was waiting for him.

Tonks had already finished her breakfast and was decidedly stand-offish as she tidied away her things, hardly saying a word as he ate. When Molly tried to take over and wash up the dishes, Tonks moodily refused her help. Hermione was also on the receiving end of sour looks, but these came from Ron as she moaned at him because he had hadn't finished a report that was due in. Why she thought it was her business, Remus couldn't understand: she didn't even work in the same department as Ron.

The only one who appeared to be blissfully unaware of the ongoing politics was Arthur. He was busy deciding who would be the most discrete person to ask if there was a copy of the book at the Ministry.

"Do you think it's safe to go to Hogwarts?” Molly asked. “We could see if it’s in the library."

"I'll do that," Remus quickly volunteered, thinking it would be a good excuse to get some space from Sirius. There had been attacks at the school, but none since the badly damaged building had been deserted by both students and staff about three months previously.

“I’ll be off, then,” Tonks announced, steadfastly refusing to even glance in Remus’s direction.

"But you'll be early, dear," Molly said.

"I've got a lot of work to catch up on, anyway."

“Hang on,” Arthur called out as he wiped a few stray crumbs from the front of this shirt. “I’ll come with you. You can introduce me to Miller—he manages the supplies for the Ministry’s library, doesn’t he?”

As Arthur and Tonks left the house, Ron was hassled into getting ready to go in early, too. Hermione seemed to think it was a good idea because Ron could do his report. Remus saw the look of disgust on Ron’s face that triggered a ‘tut’ from Hermione, and then the pair of them were also on their way out, leaving Remus and Molly alone in the kitchen.

"Do you think Harry, I mean Sirius, needs waking up? I want to clear away the breakfast things."

"He's awake, but don't wait around on his account,” Remus said, thankful that she hadn’t chosen to pester him about Tonks. “If he doesn't come down soon, he can go hungry. Although, from what I remember of him at school, he'll manage to get here just in time—he had a knack for making it to breakfast."

As if on cue, Sirius came waltzing down the stairs looking half asleep, hair ignored so that Harry's scruffy mop was even worse than usual. He sat in the chair nearest the toast and began eating in earnest, grunting in appreciation when Molly passed the teapot.

“Remus dear,” Molly began, and Remus felt himself bristling at the change of tone in her voice. “T didn’t seem very happy today. She’s not coming down with something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Remus replied stiffly.

“But I’d say she was quite upset. Is everything all right between you two?"

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Remus said, cutting her short. Even though Molly was genuinely concerned, he suspected that she was fishing for gossip more than anything else.

"If there's anything I can do--"

"We’ll be certain to let you know." Remus looked across to Sirius to find that he had been watching the exchange with interest.

"What are we doing today?" Sirius asked him.

“I was going to look through some books at the school."

"Hogwarts? We're going to Hogwarts?"

"You can't come."

Sirius threw an unimpressed glance at Molly. “So I'll be left with _her_ —a complete stranger? And you expect me to behave?"

"I'm Mrs Weasley to you, young man, and I'll thank you not to talk about me as if I'm not here."

Seeing Sirius’s hackles rise at the way Molly talked down to him, Remus considered Molly’s history with Sirius. He could imagine the arguments that would take place in his absence, and if the right buttons were pushed, there was no telling what Sirius would be capable of saying. Just a mention of their relationship would be bad enough, but what if Sirius let slip about last night’s kiss?

Remus swore under his breath. "Okay, Sirius. You can come with me."

**


	6. Chapter 6

The school wasn’t completely in ruins, but in some areas it was a close call. It was the towers that had sustained the most damage, with the roof still holding over the central part of the castle. Remus was thankful that the stairs leading to the library corridor were intact, although there were piles of rubble here and there blocking their way which had to be moved using magic. He tried to dissuade Sirius from helping, but as he had been allowed to take Harry’s wand along just in case there was trouble, Sirius was determined to join in.

"You don’t need to do anything fancy,” Remus said. “In other words: nothing catastrophic, please."

"You think I'm incapable because I’m bloody younger than you?"

"No, I just know that you can be a bit overenthusiastic at times."

Sirius flicked the wand and screwed his face up in frustration when nothing happened. He tried again and only managed to move a large boulder in the wrong direction. The third time was more of a success, albeit with the boulder rolling across Remus’s foot. This was followed by Remus saying a few choice words that he would never say in front of Molly Weasley as he swiftly sent the rubble down the corridor.

“It’s like trying to use James’s wand,” Sirius moaned. “Bloody impossible.” He then proceeded to demonstrate on another pile of rocks, causing Remus to flinch as the heap suddenly shifted to one side and careered into the wall with a crash.

Not willing to wait around while Sirius continued to play dangerously with the rubbish, Remus went on ahead to the library. He was in the middle of sorting through the books that were strewn across the floor when Sirius came in muttering to himself.

"The smaller the scope of the spell, the harder it is.”

"What?" Remus said, looking up at Sirius who was frowning at Harry’s wand.

"If I try to do something intricate, or really specific,” Sirius started to explain as he took the book that Remus was holding, "it doesn’t work properly. So if I wanted to flick through the pages of this book using the wand…”

Sirius didn’t need to finish the sentence, because his attempt sent the book flying into one of the few remaining shelves, knocking most of the books onto the floor. One particularly old and dusty tome fell open on a picture of a banshee, which immediately started to scream.

"That's terrific, Sirius!" Remus shouted over the noise, his voice laden with sarcasm.

“At least it’s not a real banshee,” Sirius shouted back. "But you see what I mean, though? And if I try something more powerful and general in focus, it's easier. _Reducto!_ "

In an orange flash, the book was destroyed.

"Sirius, how do you know that wasn't the book we were after?"

"I'd recognise that wail anywhere: that's what got me caught the last time I raided the Restricted Section."

Remus sighed. There was a good side to Sirius messing around like the teenager he was: the reminder of how irritating he could be was great at keeping all the fond memories at bay.

“Just try not to upend any more shelves. This is going to take long enough as it is.”

They only managed to keep searching through the mess for ten minutes before Sirius’s patience ran out.

"I'm bored."

It took Remus by surprise just how much those two words unnerved him. Whenever Sirius had uttered those words in the past, they had always been accompanied by sex or mayhem—or sometimes both, at the same time. He felt a chill sweep its way up his spine, his knuckles were already white before he realised how tightly he was clenching the book he was in the process of checking.

"Gis' a snog, Moony. We can find another way to search through all this crap, and spend the time doing other things."

"No."

"Go on. I want another taste of your ‘tache. I could get quite used to that thing."

"Sirius," Remus warned.

"Whatever prompted you to grow it in the first place?"

"You did." Several memories came flooding back to Remus, of Sirius pestering him at school and Remus finally working up the courage to grow a moustache after they left Hogwarts. He couldn't stop the fond smile from appearing.

Sirius smiled back, and then the smile disappeared to be replaced by Sirius chewing on his lips. "So, if I was the one to persuade you to grow your moustache...surely that means I make it back anyway, and all this book hunting is irrelevant."

"We don't know that for certain. We might be supposed to find it here, or if you don't go back, I might grow it for another reason—Harry could be the one to persuade me. We can't take the risk."

Sirius considered this for a moment before taking Remus by surprise yet again. "Have you ever done things with Harry—recently, I mean, not when he was back in my body.”

"No!"

"That sounds very definite. Why not?"

"He's...he's too young."

"Didn't stop you from kissing him last night."

"That was different. That was you, not Harry, and besides, you didn't exactly leave me any choice in the matter."

"Don't act as if it meant nothing to you. I felt the way you kissed me back. I saw the tears. I know you want to do it again."

Remus was beginning to feel like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming disaster. He couldn't disagree with Sirius, but it didn't mean he had _the right_ to kiss Sirius in Harry's body. He certainly didn't have the emotional strength for it. But did he have the strength to resist?

Sirius stepped closer, invading Remus’s personal space and making his breath catch in his throat. If Sirius kissed him now, there was no way Remus would be able to stop him. He watched as Sirius slowly reached out a hand, waiting for the moment of connection. The hand slipped inside his jacket, and to Remus’s surprise and disappointment, it didn’t stay there. Sirius pulled his arm back, now holding Remus’s self-inking quill.

Moving away, Sirius picked up a lone torn page from a book and wrote the words _Magicartes Primartes_ in the margin.

"There," he said, handing it over. "All we need to do is set a simple Tracing Charm on these letters, and if the book's here, the spell will find it. But you'll have to do the casting: I don't want to try with this naff wand."

Remus laughed. It was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of that? He cast the spell and watched as random letters started to glow on the spines of books as the magic worked its way along the shelves and across the floor searching for the matching combination of letters.

"You really love me." Sirius hadn’t asked a question; he was mulling over the notion, as if acknowledging for the first time what he should have known all along.

When it came to his erratic train of thought, Sirius never failed to catch Remus off-guard. Looking up, Remus gave a small nod.

"But you didn't at Hogwarts, right?” Sirius continued, sounding a little unsure. “I mean, we had an agreement: no mushy stuff."

"I knew how you felt about it, and I respected that. I never pushed the boundaries. I never expected anything from you, apart from some respect—though, that was hard to come by at times."

"When we kissed last night and you cried.... It's because I'm not around anymore, isn't it? You miss me, a lot—"

"Sirius, please don't do this."

But Sirius ignored him and took a step closer, cupping Remus's face in his hands. It took all of Remus’s determination not to fall apart there and then, so he had no resolve left to stop him from succumbing when Sirius’s lips met his. As his wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor, he closed his eyes and was immediately swept back in time.

It was too intense, and Remus instinctively wrapped his arms around Sirius in an effort to hold himself upright. He missed this too much, and to be alone with the opportunity to immerse himself in Sirius left him feeling strangely vulnerable. Warm gusts of air from Sirius’s nose blew across Remus’s cheek, betraying Sirius’s excitement. Then Sirius was tugging at Remus's belt, undoing it and pulling at his trousers.

"Slow down," Remus pleaded as his head started to swim.

"But I'm a horny seventeen-year-old, stuck in a horny teenager's body."

"And I happen to be pushing forty."

Sirius grabbed the front of Remus's trousers and squeezed, eliciting a groan from Remus. "Feels like you're catching up with me fast enough."

"That's not the point. We don't have to rush."

Sirius only grinned and squeezed again before going back to kissing and his task of divesting Remus of his trousers. Relenting to Sirius’s efforts, Remus started on Sirius's clothing, deliberately getting in the way of Sirius’s hands so they could take their time. Despite his attempts, it wasn't long before the pair of them were sinking to the dusty floor and kicking off the last of their clothes.

They kissed and rubbed up against each other, shoving books and rubble out the way, and Remus let his mind drift back to when his Sirius was still alive, to the last time they had had the time to touch each other in this way. But while Remus was reminiscing, Sirius's patience was wearing thin and he began to rut against Remus's hip with increasing vigour.

Remus clutched Sirius's arse, his fingers sliding inwards. It had been so long since he had been completely connected to Sirius. "Can I...?"

"I suppose, technically, it _is_ your turn."

Remus chuckled. From the moment they had started experimenting with anal sex, Sirius had always insisted on taking turns, even though Remus would have been perfectly happy either way. Sirius’s insistence of a routine made it clear that he enjoyed it, but his ego never let him admit it.

Reaching across for his wand, he motioned for Sirius to turn over. Then he said a Cleaning Charm before diving in and burying his tongue deep within Sirius’s arse.

“Holy fuck! What are you doing, Remus?”

Remus stopped briefly until Sirius ordered him to continue. He didn’t understand why Sirius was so surprised by his actions until he realised that it had been Sirius who had first instigated their rimming endeavours at Hogwarts.

“That’s it,” Sirius said with a loud groan. “I’m not going back. I want to stay here with your tongue stuck permanently up my arse.”

Remus smiled as he kissed his way up Sirius’s back, muttering a Lubricating Charm and gently pushing a finger inside. "I'm sure you could persuade me to do this when you return to your own time."

“I’ll tie you down and sit on your face until you comply. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Remus, get on with it.”

Remus paused for a moment, uncertain. Sirius might be ready, but was Harry's _body_ ready? He’d have a lot of explaining to do if Harry came back to a sore arse. But he supposed that, given what happened in the past, he and Harry would be having a rather awkward conversation, anyway. And Remus was certainly in no position at that moment to hold back.

With as much control as he could muster, he entered slowly and carefully, incapable of thinking any longer. There was only heat and tightness and the movement of their conjoined bodies. He worked a hand underneath Sirius until he could feel the firmness of an erection against his fingers. Then he started to thrust in earnest, jerking his arm to the same rhythm until they both came—not together, but it was close enough.  

Lying there, in the dirt, wrapped around Sirius, Remus felt the past welling up inside him, and he was painfully aware how desperately he was clutching at the body that contained Sirius. It was the third time that Remus would have to come to terms with no longer having Sirius in his life. He savoured the moment, knowing that it could be the last time, knowing that this opportunity was a gift. There was no reason for either of them to move until the Tracing Charm had finished, and this closeness was something that Remus wanted to imprint on his memory forever. So when Sirius spoke, it brought Remus back to the reality of a teenage Sirius with a thud.

"You're gonna have to shift. I really need a piss, mate."

**

Although kissing had been involved, it had been two days since Harry had been alone with Remus for long enough to get up to anything too traumatic. Two days of worrying about when Remus would want another hand-job or perhaps more than that. And tonight, it looked as if Remus would get the opportunity to take things further. Harry tried not to mull over all that implied as he continued rifling through his godfather's things.

"What are you looking for this time, Sirius?" James asked from his bed, the afternoon sunshine making him squint.

"I'll tell you when I find it," Harry replied. He had quickly realised that obscure comments, just like this one, were the easiest way to avoid answering questions. It seemed that everyone was used to Sirius's flippancy and saw the task of trying to scratch beneath the surface as a pointless one. So, now, he didn't have to explain that he was hoping he would find a certain book amongst Sirius's possessions.

The Restricted Section had proved a dead-end the day before, when he had made a couple of attempts to look through the books there. He soon found out that not only was Sirius barred, but a younger and just as stern Madame Pince had set up magical wards alerting her to his presence.

The past two days hadn't all been filled with worrying over Remus and searching for the book. He was getting used to finding out more about his dad and seeing his mum up close, even if she did have a tendency to insult him. He was also becoming more and more comfortable with kissing Remus, too.

A twinge of guilt twisted Harry’s insides at his hope that Remus would have to spend the night in the Hospital Wing. With the full moon due the following evening, Remus had started to look increasingly pale and worn out over the past couple of days. Harry had been secretly alarmed at first, but said nothing as the other three were quick to dismiss it as a bad month. But on the way back from lunch, Remus had passed out in the corridor and they had to levitate him to Pomfrey. He still hadn’t returned, and Harry felt decidedly ambivalent about this.

"We've got to go, Prongs," Peter said, stacking his Charms books on the floor before sliding them under the bed.

"How could she do it to us on a Sunday?" James moaned as he stood and straightened out his clothing. He then ruffled his hair and glared at Harry. "We'll see you later, traitor."

Then Harry was left alone as James and Peter went for their detention—a detention that Harry wasn't party to because he had refused to get involved with hexing Snape. Harry had professed that it wasn't worth wasting his energy, certainly not for an unprovoked attack. But in truth, he hadn't been able to join in, not after what Snape had done four months previously. He had intervened and stopped Harry from destroying an Horcrux, insisting on doing it himself and dying in the process. When James tried to involve Harry that morning, Snape’s last words rang clearly in Harry’s mind: "I do this for Albus, not for you, you ungrateful wretch." Snape might have always hated Harry, but he had been concerned with doing the right thing, after all.

The door to the dormitory clicked open bringing Harry back to the present. His heart rose and fell at the same time when he looked up to see a pale Remus cautiously making his way to the bed. Sitting down, Remus caught Harry staring at him and smiled fondly.

"I passed James and Peter in the corridor," Remus said. "Peter told me you were worrying over me this afternoon."

Harry nodded, dropping his eyes guiltily to the floor.

"You're not getting mushy on me?" Remus asked with a chuckle.

The sound of Remus's amused voice helped to disperse Harry's anxiety, and he got up, briefly wondering what Sirius usually did under these circumstances, and then deciding that some things didn't need thinking about.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"A glass of water would be nice."

Harry immediately went to fetch a cup from the bathroom and handed it over, sitting on the bed next to Remus as he did so and watching Remus drink greedily.

"Thanks," Remus said, finishing the water and setting down the empty cup. Harry didn't have time to think when Remus gently pulled him in for a kiss and then coaxed him to lie down.

"What's that on your face?" Remus asked, his finger brushing across Harry’s forehead, right where the scar used to be. He licked his finger and rubbed. “Bit of a black smudge. I think you need a wash, Padfoot.” Chuckling, he kissed Harry again, and then added, “I'm not sure I'm up to anything much today, Sirius. I’m ready to pass out.”

"That's okay. This is... nice—just lying here together."

"Are you sure Snape didn't hex you on Friday?" Remus said, his fingers drifting back to circle disconcertingly above Harry’s left eyebrow. "You’re not testing me to see if I haven’t become too clingy? Or are you just after something?"

>

"No," Harry protested, "nothing like that." Remus continued to stare at him suspiciously and Harry knew that Remus was expecting some sort of revelation from Sirius about his apparently too-tender behaviour. For a moment, Harry didn't know what to say, but then he realised that it was all too obvious. "Would you get a book for me from the Restricted Section?"

Remus started to chuckle. "I _knew_ it. What book do you want?"

" _Magicartes Primartes_."

"I haven't heard of that one. Is it for a prank?"

"Er, yeah, but James and Peter don't know about it, yet."

Remus considered this briefly before saying with a mischievous grin, "So you want me to get the book _and_ keep secrets for you? It's going to cost you."

"What do you want?"

"I know I said I wasn't up to doing much, but I'd be quite capable of lying here while you suck me off."

Harry's jaw dropped. "I... you..." he stammered, shaking his head and sternly reminding himself that he was Sirius and if he made it out to be a big deal, then he'd have to have a good reason. He couldn't think of any good reasons. There were no escape routes—not unless McGonagall went soft on James and Peter and let them go early, and that wasn't likely. "Could we, er, do the role play thing, like last time?" he tentatively asked.

In answer, Remus undid his trousers and pulled them and his briefs down to his knees, motioning for Harry to lock the door. Harry then moved to sit astride Remus's legs and vowed that, when he got back, he would never ever cast another unknown spell again, not without getting at least a dozen others to check it through for him. Taking Harry’s hand, Remus guided it to the base of his erection, and with an embarrassed flush, proceeded to talk Harry through the horrible assignment.

It was warm and salty, but once Harry had started to get the hang of it, the experience was not nearly as terrible as he had anticipated. Remus kept making suggestions in an attempt to get Sirius up to his usual standards, and this gave Harry lots of ideas for his own wanking habits. And just when he was starting to appreciate the effect he was having on Remus, it was all over, with Harry feeling grateful for Remus's timely warning.

With Remus’s tiredness creeping up on him, Harry helped him into his pyjamas before being persuaded to sleep in Remus's bed for a while. He was far too comfortable leaning back onto Remus's chest, far too sated and warm. If only he had someone to talk to about his feelings, about what was happening between him and Remus. If only Ron was there with him. Falling asleep with Remus’s arm draped across him was a lonely experience when there was no best friend available to help him understand what it all meant.

**


	7. Chapter 7

It was uncomfortable sitting next to Sirius, what with Tonks eyeing the pair of them suspiciously. Guilt flooded through him as she glanced from him to Sirius and back again while Molly poured out the tea. Was it really that obvious that something had happened between them?

“Are you sure you were able to go through _all_ of the books at Hogwarts?” Molly asked, her tone indicating that she didn’t share Remus’s confidence in the matter.

“Yes. I set up a Tracing Charm. It took a couple of hours to complete, but I’m certain it covered all the written material in the school.”

“Maybe Arthur’s having better luck at the Ministry. He should be home soon.”

“If the spell took so long to complete, what did you do to pass the time,” Tonks asked.

“We, er, looked in other rooms—the staffroom, a few of the classrooms—to make sure the charm wasn’t working in just the one place,” Remus said, fighting the urge to kick Sirius for smirking at Tonks all the way through his improvisation. At least Molly didn’t seem to have picked up on the unspoken implications in Tonks’s question.

A clatter from the kitchen and the sound of voices told them that Hermione and Ron had Floo’d home from work.

“But, Hermione, why did you have to use _indelible_ ink?” Ron whined loudly in the other room. “It’s bad enough that you check through my work—it’s just like being back at school—but I had to re-write the whole report.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to hand in substandard work.”

“I don’t care.”

Remus could tell from the dejected tone in Ron’s voice that he meant what he said, even though Hermione saw fit to dismiss it him with a hasty: "Don't be silly, Ronald. Of course you do."

“Well, I think it’s a good thing that someone is keeping an eye on you,” Molly called out to her son. “Come in here and sit down. I’ve just made a pot of tea.”

“What’s happened to his scar?” Ron asked as he joined them in the living room. “It doesn’t look right.”

It had started to fade. Remus could not think of a plausible reason for this happening, but it did not bode well.

“We need to come up with ideas, just in case Arthur hasn’t been able to locate the book,” he said. “If the scar is starting to vanish, then it probably means we’re running out of time: Sirius could end up being stuck here permanently.”

“What scar?” Sirius asked. “What’s so important about a scar?”

Remus looked at him blankly, knowing that this was something else which he could not tell Sirius.

“We could try asking in Flourish and Blotts,” Molly said, breaking the awkward silence and bypassing Sirius’s questions. “And there’s a library just off Diagon Alley.”

By the time Arthur came home, they had thought of several places where they could search, but he soon put a dampener on their newly-found enthusiasm.

“According to Ministry records, there was only one copy in existence. That was last known to be Hogwarts’ library, but had disappeared in the nineteen-seventies.”

"So we have no choice but to go back to Grimmauld Place," Remus said.

Arthur frowned, running a hand across his brow, and asked, "Remus, do you think it would be better for one of us to try to sneak in, or for a few of us, just in case there's trouble?"

"Before we do anything, we should watch the building for a while to see if there's any activity," Remus said. "When we do go in for the book, all we have to do is make it out of the front door, then we can Apparate a..." he trailed off at the sight of Arthur shaking his head.

"We can’t do that: they've pushed through a load of Apparition restrictions today. The announcement was made on the Wizarding Wireless News this afternoon."

"Restrictions?"

"It's supposed to be for our protection," Arthur said dryly.

"I bet I can guess who pushed that through," Tonks said. She didn’t need to mention the words ‘Death Eater’s at the Ministry’—that much was obvious.

"I could help," Sirius said, and Remus turned to look at him, wondering what he was thinking. "I could get away from the house without them being able to follow me."

"Don't be silly, Sirius. We can't risk you going there."

"But I can change into Padfoot. This might be a different body, but I still _know_ how to transfigure myself."

Without waiting for anyone else to speak, Sirius got up from the sofa, and although the transformation was a little jerky at first, there was soon a mass of black fur bounding around the room and barking loudly.

"It's no good, Sirius," Arthur explained in a raised voice, trying to get Sirius to hear what he was saying. But it took a few more shouts before Sirius calmed down enough to sit at Remus's feet. Remus instinctively reached down, threading his fingers through the familiar, wiry coat. "You'll be recognised."

"But, Arthur, dear," Molly intervened. "How can he be recognised when he's...you know."

"Not everyone is willing to believe it, Molly, and it's not as if the Ministry has made an official announcement. So it's possible that there are some who haven't found out. Besides, it's still too risky, especially sending him in by himself."

As the discussion continued around him, Remus let his attention drift to the smelly dog on the floor and the warm fur underneath his hands. At that moment, he didn’t care for thinking anymore about strategies and plans; all he wanted was for Sirius to still be there when the full moon came.

**

Harry was rudely awoken by banging and swearing, and it took a few seconds before he realised it was still Sunday and that James and Peter wanted to enter the dormitory. Half asleep, he prised himself from Remus’s warm bed and unlocked the door.

"'Bout bloody time," James said. "We've been knocking on that door for ages."

"How'd the detention go?"

"It's eleven o'clock, at night, Sirius. How do _you_ think it went?" James replied dryly as he and Peter readied themselves for bed. "It's all right for you, getting in an early night. But we _all_ need our beauty sleep for tomorrow."

"I'm sure she knows, James," Peter said in a paranoid whisper. He was already in bed at that point and looking ready to follow Remus's lead in a blissful slumber. "That's why she made us do it this evening."

"Don't be stupid, Wormtail. No one knows—no thanks to Sirius," James said.

"What doesn't she know?” Harry asked. “What's happening tomorrow?"

James gave him a withered look. "Not going to waste my breath. Go back to bed, Padfoot."

And then Harry knew. How could he have been so oblivious to the full moon and all of its implications? Ignoring James's advice, Harry went straight to the bathroom. He didn't see how it could possibly work, but he had to become Padfoot.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate, tried to imagine himself turning into that boisterous, lolloping dog. But he didn't have a clue how to attempt it: he didn't know the first thing about Animagus transfiguration. It was futile. If only he had spent more time with his godfather, shown more interest, then maybe.... But who was he kidding? It had taken Sirius years to master the transformation.

Defeated, he wandered back to the dormitory where three bodies were wrapped in blankets, one of whom was snoring loudly.

"Look what you've done to him. He’s completely worn out." It was James's voice that spoke, and an arm appeared from the covers, waving vaguely in Remus's direction. "Turn him over, or give him a poke or something so the rest of us can get some sleep."

Harry turned and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Remus sleeping. The smile was bittersweet, though, as Harry knew he would be letting Remus down the following evening.

**


	8. Chapter 8

After another sleep-deprived night—this time with Tonks insisting that Remus slept on the sofa—being alone with Sirius was strangely comforting…

“Why are you with her if you don’t love her?”

…except when he continued to throw in the occasional question that would throw Remus off-balance. His reactions to Sirius’s queries were always the same: immediate evasion.

“Sirius, can we concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing?” Remus tapped the parchment that was spread open on the Weasley’s kitchen table. “What about the cellar? Do you remember any enchantments set up there?”

“Regulus set up a knee-reversing hex on Father’s wine rack two years ago,” Sirius said with a chuckle. “The old man was furious an—”

“Please _try_ to come up with something useful.”

With Molly doing some shopping in Muggle London and taking the opportunity to keep an intermittent watch on Grimmauld Place, and the others having gone to work, Remus was left with Sirius to draw up a detailed plan of the Black house. Although Remus had discussed it before, there had been a lot that Sirius had forgotten after so many years in Azkaban. A seventeen year old Sirius, who had the memory of living there fresh in his mind, was a welcome asset. Any new information on curses and secret entrances could prove pivotal to getting inside and retrieving the book.

“But I’m bored,” Sirius said, grinning when Remus flinched at his choice of words. “Can’t we take a break for a while?”

Sirius didn’t give him a chance to reply or run away from the situation; in an instant, he had pushed the parchment to the floor and climbed onto the table to get at Remus on the other side. Glancing at the clock as their mouths connected, Remus supposed they could risk spending a bit of time doing other things, and he stood so he could pull Sirius’s body against his.

Running his fingers through the scruffy hair, Remus moaned in contentment until a sudden shriek came from the doorway. Molly had arrived home early.

**

“According to the library cards, the book was taken out last week by a seventh year,” Remus told Harry as they walked across the grounds at lunchtime. “I’ll keep checking, though, for when it’s brought back.”

Harry forced a smile in appreciation for Remus’s help. He had badgered Remus all morning to go the library, and now that Remus had been, Harry couldn’t help but feeling dismayed. Sleeping hadn’t come easily the night before, not when he had been tossing and turning in bed all night, wishing that he’d be able to get back to his own time before the full moon that evening.

“Sirius, are you going to tell me what you want it for?”

“I…I’ll show you once I’ve got it.”

They joined Peter and James, who were sitting in the shade of the beech tree by the lake and still complaining about having to stay up late for their detention. Harry laid back and ignored them, stewing on how he was going to explain not being able to do the Animagus transformation.

A light tapping on his foot got his attention, and he opened his eyes to see Remus staring back at him.

“Are you bored, today?” Remus asked, and he tilted his head in the direction of the bushes.

“Go on then, you two,” James muttered. “Bugger off. You’re both crap company lately, anyway.”

Harry studied Remus, who was looking up at him through adoring eyes. After all that had happened, he was now feeling quite comfortable with the idea of being alone with Remus, and not being in the mood to talk to James or Peter, he was more than willing to distract himself with a bit of canoodling.

“You haven’t washed, you dirty animal,” Remus said in between kisses. Then he frowned and reached up to Harry’s forehead. “I swear that mark’s got bigger, and darker.”

It was the same spot that Remus had pointed out the night before, right where Harry’s scar should’ve been. Intrigued by Remus’s observation, Harry grabbed a stone from the ground and pointed his wand at it, trying to transfigure the rock into some sort of mirror. He failed miserably.

“Can you do it?” he asked, handing the mess of glass and stone to Remus, who promptly finished the task without any problems.

And there it was: the faint outline of a lightening-bolt shaped scar. He didn’t want to guess at what it meant, but Harry’s couldn’t stop the thought that maybe he wouldn’t be able to go back, that perhaps he’d left it too late or had done some irreparable damage to the timeline.

Not wanting to let on to Remus just how worried he was, Harry hastily denied knowing anything about the mark, handing over the mirror for Remus to transfigure back.

“I’m having trouble transfiguring _everything_ at the moment,” he said, looking at Remus meaningfully, and a comprehending wave of disappointment washed across Remus’s face.

“Perhaps you’d better see Pomfrey.”

Harry nodded weakly, although he knew that it wouldn’t do any good. At least Remus didn’t seem to hate him, despite how let down he was obviously feeling. Harry hated being responsible for making Remus look that way.

**

“Not under my roof!”

Molly’s voice bellowed across the room, triggering a burst of activity: Remus jumping backwards away from the table and Sirius landing face-down on the floor.

And then there was a barrage of condemnation coming from Molly’s direction, while Sirius repeatedly swore at the tiles for being so hard and Remus tried his best not to bite back at Molly’s homophobic abuse. He needn’t have bothered, though, for it gave Sirius the opportunity, and then both Molly and Sirius began shouting at each other in earnest.

“What business is it of yours, anyway? You’re not Harry’s mum.”

“No. But I’m certain that Lily wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“Lily? Not Lily Evans?”

An unexpected stillness flooded the room and Remus hoped that they might be able to bluff their way around this near-revelation. But Molly’s reaction said it all as she clapped her hand over her mouth, appalled at her unintended slip.

“Lily Evans is Harry’s mother?” Sirius turned and narrowed his eyes at Remus. “Who’s his father? It’s not you, is it?”

Remus shook his head, figuring a denial couldn’t cause any more damage.

“So where is she? Why isn’t she here?”

“Sirius, please, stop asking questions. You know I can’t tell you anything.”

“There you go again, falling back on the same old bullshit line. Well, I’m getting fed up with it. How the fuck do you expect me to trust you, Remus?”

As Sirius continued to rant at him, a sudden flashback of Sirius accusing him of keeping secrets hit Remus like a brick. This was sowing the seeds for James’s and Lily’s deaths, and there didn’t seem to be anything that he could do to change it.

“Molly, please, can you let me speak with Sirius in private?” Remus pleaded, hoping for the chance to calm him down.

But she wouldn’t go, and the situation continued to escalate for the next half hour, only trailing off into an awkward silence when Tonks and Arthur arrived by Floo.

“Er, we thought we’d pop home for lunch,” Arthur said as he gazed anxiously between Molly, Sirius and Remus. “T has been given some Auror work to do tomorrow, in central London. We wanted to find out if you’d seen anything this morning, Molly, so T could follow it up while she’s there. Is, er, everything all right?”

“No, it isn’t,” Molly said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at Sirius and Remus. “You wouldn’t believe… I mean, it was disgusting, and on _my_ kitchen ta—”

“Oh shut up, you pious old hag,” Sirius spat.

“How dare you speak to my wife like that!”

“Remus, what have you done?”

It was Tonks who spoke this time, her voice quavering and low, stopping Sirius mid-stride as he rounded on Arthur. Sirius turned back to face Tonks, and Remus braced himself for what might be said next.

“And as for you,” Sirius began, spittle now flying from his lips. “Back off. It’s none of your bloody business what Remus does. I can’t begin to fathom why he’s involved with you, but knowing Remus, it’s probably out of warped sense of obligation. He doesn’t want you. Don’t you understand? It’s me; it’s always been me. You’re just a silly tart who’s too stupid to realise she’s nothing more than a substitu—”

“That’s enough!” Arthur shouted, glancing in concern at Tonks. Her whole body was shaking, her face white—a stark contrast to her glistening, red eyes. With a sob, she fled the room.

Molly chased after her. “Arthur, I don’t want those two left alone together,” she called out as she started up the stairs. “I’m not having that sort of thing going on here.”

**


	9. Chapter 9

“I can’t find anything wrong with you, Mr Black,” Madame Pomfrey said after she had finished prodding Harry in a variety of places.

Harry noticed that it was starting to get dark outside already as he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, and he kicked at the wall in annoyance, earning himself a few stern words from the portraits and a sharp pain in his toe. He didn’t mind the pain, though; it helped him to wallow even further in his guilt.

“Well?” Remus asked as soon as Harry had entered the dormitory.

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“So she didn’t do a psychological assessment,” James said with a smirk.

Remus pulled on his shoes, saying, “I’d better be off.”

“We’ll see you in a couple of hours, Moony,” Peter called out, bringing Remus to a halt in front of the door.

“You’re not to come, not without Padfoot.”

“What?” James said, jumping up from his bed in a flash. “We don’t need Padfoot.”

“It’s too risky. I don’t want you there.”

James glared at Harry. “Nice one, Sirius. You’ve not only let Remus down, but you’ve spoiled it for us, as well.”

“It’s not my fault,” Harry snapped back, feeling a sudden urge to take out all of his frustrations on his dad. “You don’t give a damn about Remus. All you care about is having a bit of fun. He’s going to be in that horrible shack, alone, and it’s all my fault. I can’t bloody well change into that bloody dog, but I want to, God, I really, really want to.”

When he finished his tirade, he found that his breathing had become erratic and that he had instinctively raised his fists. He also realised that James was looking nervous and had taken several steps away from him.

“Sirius,” Remus said softly, reaching out with a tentative hand and placing it on Harry’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

“Will you be okay?” It seemed like a dumb question, but Harry didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ve done it without you before.”

Harry didn’t sleep at all that night, even though he was still tired from worrying the night before. In the distance, he could hear howls coming from the direction of the shack, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Moony being cooped up by himself. When the sky gradually began to lighten, he went to sit by the windows, watching the grounds until he saw Madame Pomfrey escorting Remus back to the castle.

He wanted to see Remus, to make sure he was okay. As soon as Remus had disappeared from view, Harry started to get dressed.

“Where are you going?” James said in a drowsy slur.

“To see Remus.”

“Don’t be stupid. You know Pomfrey won’t let any of us near him before lunchtime, especially not when he’s had a bad night.”

There was an underlying note of accusation in James voice as he said this last part, and Harry knew that it was directed at him. Remus’s bad night was his fault. Harry didn’t need James taking a dig at every opportunity: he was well aware of that fact.

Resigning himself to a few more hours of waiting before he could check on Remus, he made his way to the bathroom and undressed once more. Hopefully, a scalding shower would help to clear his mind in the meantime. As he passed the mirror, Harry stopped in his tracks. His scar was now much clearer.

**

Neither Tonks nor Arthur made it into work that afternoon. Tonks stayed upstairs with Molly, and Remus hoped that Mrs Weasley wasn’t making things worse with her attentions. With the atmosphere that was left downstairs, Arthur hadn’t been willing to leave the house.

Arthur wasn’t the only one to realise that Sirius was itching to have another go at someone; the sensation of Sirius threatening to bubble over at any moment prickled at the back of Remus’s neck, too. And so, Remus had spent the day in a state of restless anxiety waiting for the next outburst. He was now sitting at the kitchen table, leaning on his elbows and burying his face in his hands. If only Molly would finish trying to console Tonks and come downstairs; then he could talk to Tonks in private and perhaps make some sort of peace with her.

It was when Hermione and Ron came home that Sirius started off again. It seemed he was just waiting for a fresh audience.

“You gonna get on your moral high horse next?” he asked Hermione as soon as she and Ron had arrived in the fireplace.

“About what?” Ron asked at the same time that Hermione turned to Arthur and said, “What’s happened, Mr Weasley?”

“Well, er—” Arthur stuttered, but Sirius finished the sentence for him, addressing himself to Ron.

“—your ol’ lady caught me and Remus at it on the kitchen table and it’s mortally wounded her sensibilities.”

“Sirius, please,” Remus pleaded from behind his fingers. He didn’t hold out much hope of getting any respite: if there was one thing that Sirius excelled at back at school, it was making a bad situation worse.

He heard Ron give out a nervous chuckle as if not believing what had been said. Then the sound of chuckling faded away when it became evident that everyone else had taken Sirius’s words in earnest.

“Where’s T?” Hermione asked in concern.

“Upstairs sulking because she’s jealous,” Sirius said before anyone else had a chance to answer. Remus raised his head and glared at Sirius for his lack of tact. “Well, she is. If she so desperately wants to have you, then she should accept that she can’t have you all to herself.”

And then Remus saw Sirius take a deep breath in preparation for his next bout of verbal effusion. Remus winced in anticipation for what was to come.

“What is it with women, anyway?” Sirius turned to face Hermione. “Where do you get off trying to put men into little boxes, forcing us to fit an ideal that we couldn’t possibly live up to? Just look at you and ‘Ronald’. I bet he was just as laid-back about getting things done before you got your claws into him. If that’s not the sort of bloke you want, why insist on making his life miserable in the first place?”

Remus glanced at Ron, who was standing about a foot behind an increasingly-irate Hermione and staring at the back of her head clearly worried that she was going to turn around and demand that he deny what Sirius was saying.

“Sirius, this has nothing to do with Hermione and Ron,” Remus intervened, hoping that he’d save Ron the embarrassment of being bullied into submission by Hermione.

“Yes it does,” Sirius said. “She’s just like T, with a stupid notion of what Ron could be like with a little helping hand on her part. I bet T thought that she could ‘cure’ you of your obsession with me. I don’t know when we stopped fucking, or why, but you told her about us—you and your idiotic sense of obligation would have seen to that—and I bet she just dismissed it outright. Not to your face, of course. But you liking me more than her wouldn’t have fit with her fantasy vision. So she pushed that bit of reality to one side, ignored it, completely disregarded that part of you. And now she’s sulking because she can’t run away from it anymore.”

“And what are _you_ sulking about?” Hermione asked. “There’s got to be something for you to make such a fuss.”

“Not being allowed to do what I do best with Remus,” Sirius said with a lurid grin.

“But once we’ve got the book, there won’t be anything to stop you in your own timeline.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to go back to my _used_ goods.”

The bitter note to Sirius’s words sent warning bells off in Remus’s head. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“What do you think? Harry is back there, in my body, fucking my Remus. How the fuck could you not tell the difference? I must’ve made such an impression on you: you didn’t even notice that you were shagging a complete stranger.”

Remus glanced around the room quickly to see jaws gaping in every direction, including Molly’s. She was at the foot of the stairs, her hands on her hips, and was positively glowering at Remus.

“Sirius, could we discuss this outside?” Remus said, motioning towards the back door.

“Oh no you don’t,” Molly said. “I told you I’m not having you two left on your own.”

Sirius grunted and pushed his chair back from the table, scraping the legs across the floor so they gave off a harsh grating noise like fingernails down a blackboard. “Fine by me,” he said before stalking off upstairs.

After a few seconds of silence, Remus could hear Sirius shouting along the corridor at Tonks, “You can go back downstairs now: the competition has left the room.”

“I’m holding you responsible for the appalling way he’s behaving,” Molly said to Remus. “As if Tonks doesn’t have enough to cope with, without him rubbing it in her face. And I certainly hope for your sake that what he said about Harry wasn’t true.”

Remus caught himself grinding his teeth so hard, he was surprised that they hadn’t already shattered. He didn’t dare stop, though, not when there were a hundred different ways of insulting Molly waiting on the tip of his tongue. Resisting the urge to say something that he’d later regret, Remus rose from the table, deciding to take the opportunity to talk to Tonks.

Molly still didn’t move away from the stairs as he climbed them. She stayed stock still with only her eyes moving as they followed his ascent suspiciously.

“I’m going to my own room, Molly, not Sirius’s,” Remus said, pleased that he’d managed to keep his words neutral, but thoroughly resenting the fact that he had to justify his actions.

“Don’t you think you’ve upset her enough for one day?” Molly said as she moved up a few steps so she could continue to monitor his progress along the corridor.

He chose not to reply and steadfastly ignored her as he turned the handle to the room he was sharing with Tonks.

Tonks was curled up on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, face blotchy and eyes red. When she looked up at him without any malice, only hurt, it was like receiving a kick to the gut. What had he done to her?

“This is such a mess. I’m sorry,” he said, perching on the edge of the bed.

She pulled her lips into a tight smile, which left her face almost as soon as it had appeared, and then she continued to gaze at him, as if waiting for him to make everything better. But that wasn’t going to happen.

And then she started to cry, a few big, fat tears rolling down her puffy cheeks. He had come up to talk to her, and now he found that he couldn’t find the words. He just felt awkward and strangely resentful that she was giving him an extra complication to deal with.

“I should go. I’m only making you worse,” he muttered, and he stood up to leave.

She reached out to him, resting a hand on his arm, and said, “I’m sorry, too. I pushed you into something you didn’t want.”

At her unexpected apology, he felt something break inside and was left fighting against his own tears that threatened to escape.

“I shouldn’t have been so easy to push,” he said. “I wasn’t ready. I’m not sure I ever will be. And now I’ve got to send him away, and I don’t want to, but he can’t stay. I hate having him back in my life like this.” He knew that he was starting to waffle and that he was close to just letting everything overwhelm him. “I have to go. The sooner we work out how to get Harry back, the better.”

Taking her hand from his arm, Remus left the room, making his way to the garden where he sat in silence until Arthur called him in for dinner. But he wasn’t hungry, and he stared at his plate as he pushed the food around in circles. Tonks evidently wasn’t hungry either—she still hadn’t come downstairs.

Worried that Tonks was going to make herself ill, Molly dished up an extra plate of food and took it up for her to eat. She came back to the kitchen a few minutes later, still carrying Tonks’s dinner.

“She’s not there,” Molly said with a frown. “She’s gone.”

**


	10. Chapter 10

Lunchtime couldn’t come round quickly enough for Harry, and when it did, it proved to be an anti-climax because Remus was still sleeping and Pomfrey didn’t want them waking him. It wasn’t until after dinner that Remus arrived back at the dormitory.

A fresh cut could be seen just above Remus’s collar on the back of his neck, but apart from that any new injuries were hidden by his school robes. The only thing to betray that which lay out of sight was the slow and cautious way that he was walking. Anxious about Remus’s pale face and pained gait, Harry scurried round, clearing a path for him to his bed, helping him to undress and then making sure Remus was settled and comfy. In the background, James and Peter started to snigger.

“Cor, look at Nurse Black,” James said. “Guilt works wonders on you, Padfoot—just as long as you don’t start giving him a bed bath. He’ll be offering to do your homework next, Remus.”

Ignoring him, Harry kept his back to James and asked, “Do you need a hand with any work, Remus?”

“That’s okay. I made sure I was up to date before the full moon,” Remus said. “Thanks for helping me.”

As Remus stared up at him with a look of utter devotion and gratitude, Harry was suddenly reminded of the smell of flowers that triggered him to see Ginny in a new light. Only this time, he realised that he didn’t need that same smell to tell him how he felt. Leaning down, he captured Remus’s lips for an affectionate kiss, which Remus returned as he tugged Harry down onto the bed. Neither of them acknowledged the gagging sounds coming from James and Peter’s direction.

When the kiss broke, they saw that the curtains had been closed.

“You’ve never done that before,” Remus said under his breath as he nestled down and laid his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Kiss me in front of James and Peter. I thought James made you promise not to.”

“Oh, shit. I, er, forgot about that.”

“It was a nice surprise.”

Listening to the sounds of movement on the other side of the curtain, Harry absently ran his fingers through Remus’s hair and wondered how much of this Remus would remember in the future. Would he be interested in a relationship? Harry mused, but then he dismissed the idea. As fond as he was of the other version of Remus, Harry wanted this one. Remus had changed as he had got older, and he was sure that it wouldn’t be the same.

“Shouldn’t Sirius be getting in his own bed?” It was Peter’s voice that had brought a stop to Harry’s train of thought.

“Yeah, good point,” James said to Peter. Then he called out to Harry, “I don’t want McGonagall coming in here and catching you at it: we’ll all get it in the neck.”

Harry did not want to move. Clutching at his wand, he poked it through the curtains and flicked it at his own bed, but his attempt to draw his own curtains was a miserable failure. He was about to ask Remus to move, but Remus had already fallen asleep. Instead, he carefully shifted Remus’s head back onto the pillow before climbing out of bed and pulling to his own curtains by hand.

“As far as you and Peter are concerned,” he said as he undressed and returned to Remus’s bed, “you know nothing about it.”

**

It was dark outside, but Remus preferred that to hanging around indoors with the others. The silence of the garden helped to relax him as he paced through the uncut lawn, disturbing the occasional gnome and trying to understand why Tonks had taken off so suddenly. As he expected, Molly had held him responsible, but he knew that there must have been a better reason for Tonks to run away than the one Molly was determined to believe.

“Remus.” He turned to see Hermione standing by the back door. “Is it okay if I join you?”

She didn’t sound as if she had come to pass judgement on him, and so, he settled himself down on the garden wall and motioned for her to sit next to him.

“Did you stop loving Tonks because Sirius came back?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, just inquisitive.

“No. It’s always been Sirius. Tonks knew that.”

“But you thought it was okay to let her love you, even though you didn’t love her back?”

The uncertainty in her question told Remus that she wasn’t talking about him and Tonks.

“How long have you known that you don’t love Ron?” he asked.

“I guess it’s been a few months. I only really admitted it to myself after what Sirius said earlier,” she said. Then she continued to talk, telling Remus how things between her and Ron had been getting worse and how that had prompted her to try even harder to change him, even if she didn’t realise it at the time. “I don’t want to hurt him, Remus, but we can’t carry on like this.”

“All you can do is to be honest. If you can’t, then let him go, because Ron deserves better than that.”

They sat in a contemplative silence for a while, and then she spoke again.

“Where do you think Tonks is?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps back to her parent’s house. Or there are a couple of places nearby where she liked to go when she needed time to think. There’s a waterfall at the other side of the woods that she’s particularly fond of.”

“Yes, I know the one: she showed that to me the other week. Do you think we should look for her? If she’s upset, then she might not be safe wandering about by herself, not when there are so many Death Eaters around.”

“You’re right: we should do something. If only to make sure she’s safe.”

They went back inside to discuss with the others what they could do. Remus suggested Hermione went with Ron, thinking that it might give them a chance to talk on the way, and Arthur said he was going to check in at the Ministry and get in contact with other members of the Order. Molly insisted that Remus stayed behind with her and Sirius because she wasn’t going to be responsible for the “foul-mouthed delinquent”. As much as he wanted to help, Remus had to acknowledge that staying at the Burrow would be for the best.

Once the others had left, Molly refused to let the pair of them out of her sight, which made things awkward when Sirius decided that he was ready to talk about Harry.

“Why did you fuck him, Remus? Did you enjoy getting a break from me?”

“I thought he was you,” Remus said, studiously ignoring the noises of disapproval that came from Molly’s direction. “You’ve hardly been the most stable of people, Sirius. I can’t remember what I was thinking at the time, but I do know that you often had the odd week at Hogwarts when you behaved erratically. How was I supposed to tell the difference?”

Sirius thought about this for a moment and grunted.

“Don’t see why I should believe you, not when you’ve been so busy hiding other things from me. I hate you, you know? I hate you for keeping me in the dark.”

“Stop it,” Remus snapped, surprising himself as well as Sirius. “Do you honestly think that I’ve enjoyed not telling you everything?”

“I dunno,” Sirius said sulkily. “I suppose I don’t really know you as well as I thought I did.”

Remus winced at his words. “Maybe you don’t. Just promise me one thing, Sirius. That whatever happens in the future—your future—you’ll remember how I feel about you. I need to know that what you did—what you will do—wasn’t because you thought I didn’t love you.”

“You’ve become a right soppy tosser in your old age.”

Remus choked out a laugh, and a wave of sentimentality washed through him. He knew that if he didn’t do something, he’d very soon be in tears. Despite Molly’s protestations, he moved to sit next to Sirius on the sofa and pulled him in for a fierce hug. He could feel Sirius patting him awkwardly on his back, and the lack of reciprocity from Sirius gave him the strength he needed to pull himself together. But he still couldn’t bring himself to let go, not just yet.

**

Harry woke on Wednesday morning warm and snug. His first instinct was to bury himself deeper into the blankets, but he soon found that there just wasn’t the room to do so, not when Remus was in the same bed.

Opening his eyes, he saw the wound that ran down the back of Remus’s neck. It had healed already, leaving a silver scar in its wake. He leant forwards, pressing his lips against it, and Remus shifted, turning over to greet Harry with a sleepy smile.

“Why are you in my bed, Sirius?”

“I didn’t want to leave you. Do you want me to go?”

Remus shook his head and pulled Harry closer, moving their hips together and bringing Harry’s attention to the parts of their anatomy which were ready and waiting for action.

“Mmm, this is nice,” Remus murmured, his breath tickling Harry’s shoulder.

“Very,” Harry said, and he groaned as they began to rub against each other.

Then no further words needed to be spoken. The sound of bedsprings creaking, heavy breathing and moans filled Harry’s ears. He clung on, his lips trying to find purchase on any available patch of skin as the sounds of their rutting increased.

“I…I…,” Remus panted, looking as if he had something he desperately wanted to say but not letting himself say it as their movements became more erratic until, finally, they both juddered to a halt, trying to catch their breath and letting the slickness of skin and damp pyjamas bind them together.

“What were you going to say?” Harry asked when his breathing had returned to normal.

To his surprise, Remus hung his head as if ashamed of himself. “Nothing,” he said, and then he changed the subject. “That mark on your head is starting to look a bit like a lightning bolt. Do you have any idea where it’s come from?”

“No,” Harry lied.

“I bet James will blame it on Snape.”

“I can hide it if I let my hair flop forward. Don’t point it out to him. I don’t want to give him any more reasons to pick on Snape.”

“You _must_ be ill,” Remus said, smiling. “Maybe it’s got something to do with you not being able to do magic properly. I think you should see Pomfrey again.”

“If it hasn’t gone in a couple of days, I will.”

The room was empty when they pulled back the curtains. On Remus’s bedside table a note from James lay waiting for them:

_I don’t EVER want to be woken up like that again!_

“Oops,” Harry said with a smirk, prompting Remus to laugh nervously.

James sulked throughout most of the morning, and Peter only egged him on whenever he started to moan about how disgusting it was to be sharing a room with Sirius and Remus lately. Harry couldn’t bring himself to care: he was walking on cloud nine. Even when it was time for his detention with McGonagall, his good mood didn’t dissipate. He barely paid any attention to the dust and grime of the cupboard that he had been instructed to clean out. He was far too busy daydreaming about much pleasanter things.

Remus was looking very pleased with himself when he caught up with Harry at the end of the lunch hour. Taking Harry by surprise, Remus pulled him into an empty classroom and thrust a dusty old tome into his hands.

“Are you going to tell me what you want it for?” Remus said.

Harry glanced down at the cover and tried not to let his disappointment show as he read the words _Magicartes Primartes_. There was no reason for him to wait any longer.

It was time to say goodbye.

**


	11. Chapter 11

Feeling emotionally drained, Remus had gone to bed early, but he didn’t get the chance to sleep for long before being woken by noises coming from the kitchen. He pulled on a dressing-gown and shuffled downstairs, assuming it was Arthur, Ron and Hermione, and wondering if they had had any success locating Tonks.

There was blood on the carpet, a trail of red that lead from the fireplace. Molly was standing in the kitchen in tears.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

She looked up and wiped at her face with a tissue. Her neutral expression was swiftly replaced by a glare that was directed behind him, and Remus turned to see that Sirius had joined them.

“Arthur found her. He’s taken her to St. Mungo’s,” Molly said in a muffled voice as she turned to get a brush and her wand. Kneeling down on the floor, she started a Scrubbing Spell and continued to sob. “Stupid, stupid girl. What was she thinking?”

“Molly, stop,” Remus said, a feeling of panic start to rise within him. He walked over and took her gently by the elbow. “I’ll do that; you sit down. Sirius, can you put the kettle on?”

For once, Sirius didn’t argue, and Remus methodically cleaned up the mess and tried to steady his mind.

“Ron and Hermione don’t know,” Molly said with a sniff. “They checked in by Floo about twenty minutes ago, before Arthur came home. They said they’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Sirius handed her over a cup of tea and was glared at in return, as if Molly blamed him for what had happened to Tonks.

“Was she badly injured?” Remus asked, knowing the answer even before Molly choked out a yes.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything further as he cleared away the last of the blood from the carpet. If only Arthur would hurry up and bring some news back from the hospital, any news. It was when he noticed the few drips of red on the table that he saw the book and realised what Tonks had done: she had gone back to Grimmauld Place by herself. Desperate to get rid of Sirius so she could have me to herself again, Remus thought half-heartedly. He was trying his hardest to be cynical to avoid dwelling on how worried he was, but he knew that was not Tonks’ motivation. It was he, Remus, who, only hours before, had said to Tonks, “The sooner we work out how to get Harry back, the better.”

A noise from the fireplace drew his attention, and Arthur stepped into the room, deathly pale, a grim expression on his face.

“She’ll live.”

At Arthur’s words, Molly rushed over and buried herself in his arms. Remus felt his legs give way out of relief and he sunk backwards onto a chair, feeling Sirius step closer and rub a comforting hand across his shoulders. Through bleary eyes, Remus reached for the book.

“Remus, I’m sure that can wait until morning,” Arthur said from the other side of the table, where he was holding Molly tight. “Get some sleep.”

Remus looked up at Sirius, saw the scar staring back at him and then glanced back at the old tome that was dashed with Tonks’ blood.

“No, the sooner we do this, the better. We can’t risk leaving it too late.”

Arthur escorted Molly upstairs in silence, leaving Remus to work his way through the book. It wasn’t long before he reached the page that had the top corner folded over, and he recognised the spell immediately. It was obvious what Harry had tried to use it for and why it had gone wrong.

_Soul Dislocation - to remove a soul from a vessel, or to switch souls between vessels_

 

From Harry’s notes, Remus could see that he had assumed the word for vessel meant an object. But the proper translation should have been ‘body’—a body that had once been home to life, whether it was now dead or alive wouldn’t have mattered.

When Arthur returned, Remus asked if he remembered how far the magic had spread the first time that Harry had cast the spell. If he was right, then the same amount of energy would be released when they cast the reversal, and he intended to be far enough away so that it wouldn’t draw any attention to the Burrow. Arthur fetched a map of the local area, and together they worked out a suitable spot: the waterfall that Tonks liked—it seemed appropriate given how much she had put at stake to retrieve the book. Remus knew that they wouldn’t be able to Apparate because of the new restrictions set up by the Ministry; instead, he and Sirius would have to travel by broom.

With nothing left to do, the pair of them set off.

**

Although it made things less complicated without James and Peter with them, Harry felt down-hearted that he wouldn’t be able to see his dad one last time. He wanted more time with his dad, and with Remus. He wanted to stay and get to know them better, to indulge himself in this new relationship with Remus, but he guessed that he had probably done enough damage. And if he delayed it any further, there was a chance he might never get back. Part of him hoped that it was already too late.

“I’m not sure this will work,” Harry said to Remus, who was still waiting for an explanation of the spell. He didn’t see any point in telling Remus what was going to happen, not when Remus didn’t believe that he wasn’t Sirius. And whatever Sirius chose to say if he returned was beyond Harry’s influence, anyway.

Pulling Remus close for one last kiss, Harry tried his best to say his goodbyes without words. Then Harry stepped back, double-checking the page— _Animae Extorquere_ to cast the spell, _Animae Extero_ to reverse it—before pointing the wand at himself.

“ _Animae Extero_.”

**

When Remus and Sirius arrived at the waterfall they found Hermione and Ron already there hoping to find for Tonks. It was the last place that they had intended to look before heading home.

“How did you get the book?” Hermione asked.

“T went back to Grimmauld Place to get it,” Remus said. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them what happened, but Hermione seemed to guess from the tone of his voice.

“Is she all right”

“She will be. You two should go back to the Burrow.”

“No,” Hermione said. “We’ll stay—in case you need any help.”

Remus was grateful for the offer, despite wishing that they would go so he could have one last moment of privacy with Sirius.

“Okay,” he said. “But would you excuse us for a few minutes?”

Ron glanced between Remus and Sirius awkwardly, and in the moonlight, Remus could see Ron’s face start to flush.

“I don’t think Molly would—” Hermione began.

“She’s not here,” Remus said, cutting her short. “It’s just us, and I need to say goodbye properly. Molly’s opinion doesn’t come into it.”

“What about Harry’s opinion?”

“Hermione, trust me when I say that Harry won’t have a problem with it.”

“Did he really, er, well….” Ron said, stuttering in embarrassment over his words. “Did you two do _stuff_ together?”

“Why don’t you talk about it with Harry later,” Remus said, his patience starting to wear thin. Not waiting any longer for Ron and Hermione to leave them alone, he turned to Sirius and gave him a wistful smile. “I know you’ll make it back safely. Just don’t resent me too much for not realising it wasn’t you.”

“I suppose I can try, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Remember I’ll always love you.”

Remus couldn’t stop the tears that ran passively down his face as he said these few words, and he reached out to kiss Sirius one last time. He expected Sirius to pull away, to resist at the show of emotion, but Sirius kissed him back and was even looking at him fondly as they drew away from each other.

“Well, I guess I do, too,” Sirius mumbled, shuffling dirt with his feet, “or I wouldn’t give a toss about this Harry bloke being in my bed. Not sure if I’ll ever be able to trust you again, though.”

“I should warn you that you’ll have a few detentions with McGonagall when you get back.”

Sirius snorted. “Bloody figures,” he said as he drew Harry’s wand ready to cast the spell. “Will it work with me using this wand?”

“It should do. It only requires a large quantity of magic to be released; it doesn’t have to be precise.”

“Guess I’ll see you at Hogwarts then. _Animae Extero_.”

**


	12. Chapter 12

The blast from the spell knocked them all off their feet. Remus promptly picked himself up and made sure the others were all right. Hermione and Ron seemed fine, but Harry was fading in and out of consciousness. Looking up, Remus saw that a couple of trees had toppled over, blocking the path they had taken, and to make matters worse, one of those trees was where they had leant their broomsticks earlier. There was no way of retrieving them now.

“Apparating restrictions be damned,” he said as he knelt next to Harry and ran a hand across Harry’s brow.

Hermione complained at first, until she realised that no one was agreeing with her. But it was all academic anyway, because try as they might, they could not Apparate: it seemed as if the Soul Dislocation Spell had left a residue of unstable magic around them.

“I don’t understand,” Remus muttered to himself. “There wasn’t a problem at Grimmauld Place, unless…. Perhaps the Fidelius Charm was able to soak up the excess energy produced. Well, no matter, I don’t see how it’s going to help right now.” He motioned for Ron to help him lift Harry and said, “We’d better move.”

It wasn’t easy navigating through the darkness and trying to find an alternative way through the undergrowth, and they had had to start off in the wrong direction to get anywhere. At first, he was grateful that Hermione and Ron hadn’t returned to the Burrow, as Hermione had brought a map with her. But after traipsing across the countryside for over an hour and unable to check using the Four Points Spell, his faith in her map-reading skills began to fade. And he wasn’t the only one to feel this way.

“But Hermione,” Ron said, “I swear I saw that same stream before. We’re walking in circles.”

“No, that one is over there, and we’re here,” Hermione said as she pointed at the map in the darkness.

“But that’s miles away; we can’t have walked that far.”

As they continued to bicker, Harry gradually regained consciousness and started to move restlessly, making it difficult for Remus and Ron to keep hold of him. After a few minutes, they gave up, and Remus tried and failed to Apparate once more.

“Harry, can you stand?” he asked. Harry nodded and pulled himself upright, but he swayed precariously, leaving Remus to hold on to his arm. “Wherever we are, we can’t keep going: Harry’s too tired to walk.”

“We can’t stay here, can we?” Hermione said, her voice sounding uncertain. “Is it safe?”

“It’ll have to be.” Remus said, and he looked around and spotted a thicker patch of trees nearby that would provide a certain amount of cover. “Over there looks like a good spot to camp down for the night. Hopefully we’ll be able to Apparate later or, at least, walk the rest of the way in the morning when we can see better. Can you two take Harry for a moment?”

Ron and Hermione obliged, one on each side of Harry, encouraging him to walk to where Remus was setting up a fire.

“Mmm,” Harry muttered as Ron helped him to sit next to the fire, “why do you smell of flowers?”

“Flowers?” Ron asked in disgust.

“Yeah.” Then Harry lowered his voice as he added, “A bit like Ginny, in fact.”

“I, erm, ran out of shampoo. I think the bottle I found at the back of the cupboard belongs to her.”

Harry let out a snort of laughter.

“Are you laughing ‘cos I smell like a girl?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry: you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

Hermione, Ron and Harry settled down next to the warmth of the flames, and before long, snores could be heard from Ron’s direction. Remus remained seated on a log as he stared out at the shadowy trees, straining to listen for any unwelcome sounds.

“Remus, aren’t you going to sleep?” Harry asked.

“I think it best if one of us stays awake, just in case there’s any trouble.”

“But you need some rest, as well.”

“I’ll wake you up if I get too tired.”

In the light of the flames, Remus could see Harry sitting upright.

“Do you remember?” Harry began awkwardly. “I mean, when I was in Sirius’s body?”

“Yes, I do,” Remus said. He didn’t think he could deal with having _that_ conversation just yet. When Harry looked at him expectantly, Remus merely added, “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you.”

“That’s okay. I, er, got used to the situation.” They sat in an uneasy silence for a few moments, and then Harry said, “Has much time passed since I’ve been gone?”

It took Remus by surprise when he thought about this and realised that it had all happened in only three days. He briefly mentioned the book, but left out the news about Tonks—that could wait until they were back at the Burrow.

“You didn’t translate the word for ‘vessel’ correctly,” Remus explained. “That’s why the spell went wrong. It didn’t mean just an object, but specifically a body. And it’s a very powerful spell that needs a Restriction Charm to force it to a certain time and space—I suppose you didn’t do that.”

“I, er…. No, I didn’t.”

“No matter: you’re back now and the spell managed to obliterate the locket,” Remus said with a smile that Harry returned. “What did you use as the proxy item?”

“Sirius’s old Herbology text book from Hogwarts—the one with all the writing in.”

“I see.” Remus took a few moments to think about this, and then he added, “The magic sought out Sirius’s soul when it resonated at its closest to the imprint—his essence, if you like—that had been left on the book. That was probably just before he got the new text book.”

“Oh,” Harry said, looking embarrassed by what he had done. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble…. What happened after I left the past?”

“Well, we both got in trouble for disrupting a few of the wards at Hogwarts,” Remus said with a chuckle. “If I’d had any idea how much power that spell used, I never would have let you do it.”

“I’ll be sure to double check next time. But what about Sirius? Were the extra detentions a problem?”

“No, I warned him before he went back. He was adamant that I’d been sleeping with someone else, though, which caused a few arguments because I didn’t understand why he’d think I’d do that. It took a couple of weeks for things to settle down, and even then, he couldn’t bring himself to trust me completely. But, to tell the truth, I think the lack of trust had more to do with what I wouldn’t tell him when he was here, than anything you did.”

“So Sirius was here in my body?”

Remus nodded and tentatively related a few details. “I’m sorry, but I acted rather inappropriately. I just found it a bit overwhelming to have him back in my life. I should have resisted, but….” Remus stopped himself from going any further and hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

When he looked up, he saw that Harry was studying him.

“But now he’s left you, again,” Harry said. “Are you going to be all right?”

Remus gave a weak smile and nodded, but he could tell that Harry didn’t believe him. Remus wasn’t sure that he believed it himself. It was hard to think about what the future held for him. Emotionally, everything had stopped with Sirius.

“Get some sleep, Harry. You’ll need it.”

**

It was still dark when Harry woke. Remus was shaking him roughly and telling him that they had to leave: Death Eaters had been heard nearby.

He tried not to panic as he pulled himself upright and followed Remus, wondering why no one had thought of Apparating but not having the strength to do so himself. Ron and Hermione were now just vague grey shapes as they rushed ahead of him and Remus through the trees, and from behind came shouts and the sound of undergrowth being hexed out of the way. Running faster, he reached across to take his wand that Remus was holding out for him and gripped it tightly, hoping that he wouldn’t need to use it. Although, the shock of what was happening had woken him thoroughly, he was still feeling dazed from the spell.

Just when he thought he could see an end to the trees in the distance, a bolt of red light missed his face by inches, and he watched as it caught Remus on one shoulder, as if in slow motion, sending him sprawling to the ground twisting onto his back as he fell. Hermione and Ron had not seen the hex. They continued to run in the distance, passing out of sight.

Harry pointed his wand at Remus, shouted, “ _Enervate,_ ” and held his breath. Then a wave of relief passed through him as Remus gasped and his eyes snapped open.

He didn’t have time to help Remus to his feet, though. Two Death Eaters had caught up with them. Not stopping to think, Harry swirled around, firing off Stunning Spells at both of them in quick succession.

When he turned back to Remus, he was surprised to see him still on the ground. Remus coughed and a dark speck of liquid spilled out over his lips. Harry’s surprise left him and he stared downwards in concern, dropping to his knees.

“Remus,” he said as he touched Remus’s face with a shaky hand. “Remus, talk to me. You’re okay, right? Everything’s going to be okay.”

Remus moaned loudly, startling Harry, and when he spoke, it was so faint that Harry barely heard him.

“I feel cold.”

Harry called out to Hermione and Ron, feeling a sickly sensation welling up inside, but they were too far away. He was at a loss at what to do. He knew very little first aid, and it wasn’t obvious what was wrong with Remus. When he tried to roll Remus over, in the hope that his wound was something he could patch up, Remus cried out in agony.

“Don’t,” Remus pleaded weakly. “It’s…. it hurts…. I’ve landed… on something.”

 

Harry could hear a gurgling sound, now, in time with Remus’s wheezy breaths. He laid a hand on Remus’s chest. The material was wet, and there was an unexpected hardness that poked up very slightly just below his ribs. Whatever Remus had landed on had gone all the way through.

“What can I do?” Harry asked in desperation as his stomach gave a sickening lurch. “Tell me how to make it better. Please.”

Remus only shook his head slightly and tears of pain ran down his cheeks. “Go. Get yourself back to the Burrow.”

“No. We’ll get you St. Mungo’s. You’ll be fine.”

In response, Remus took a shuddery breath and lowered his eyelids.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt so helpless. Remus was dying here in front of him and there was nothing he could do. He still felt too dizzy from the spell to even attempt to Apparate himself, let alone Side-Along Apparition. But if there was no other alternative, perhaps he should try. He faltered as he held his wand out. What if it went wrong? What if Apparating Remus in his condition only made it worse? Would Ron and Hermione realise something had happened and bring help in time anyway?

Standing up, Harry let out a yell of frustration at his uncertainty. Anger was welling up inside him. He lashed out at a tree stump, kicking and shouting, raging so completely that he nearly didn’t register that Remus was muttering something.

“What did you say, Remus?” he asked softly as he dropped to the ground once more. He clutched at Remus’s hand, a wave compassion flooding through him that stilled his fury.

“I’m scared,” Remus said, his voice now so unsteady that it was hard to discern his words.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m with you.”

“What if _he’s_ not… not there?”

It took Harry a few seconds before he realised what Remus was implying, what Remus was hoping for in his last moments.

“I’m sure Sirius will be,” Harry said, and he choked back on his urge to cry. He knew he was lying. He couldn’t be sure about death, about the possibility of an afterlife or the chance to meet lost loved ones. But Remus needed this lie. “Close your eyes. He’ll be there.”

Remus took a sudden rattling gasp and then fell silent. The only way that Harry knew that he was still alive was from the weak grip of his hand.

Harry leant forwards and whispered, “It won’t be long. I promise. Just imagine he’s here, now.”

He brushed his lips across Remus’s, refusing to acknowledge the dirt and the blood, feeling Remus kiss back with lips that were barely moving. Try as he might, Harry could not stop himself from letting out a sob.

“Oh dear.” At the sound of that familiar icy voice, Harry froze. “Harry Potter seems to be broken.”

Slowly, Harry rose and turned to face Voldemort, holding his wand ready.

“I was hoping,” Voldemort continued, “that your defeat would prove to be somewhat of a challenge. I guess I’ll have to put up with second best.”

A few hexes were fired in Harry’s direction that were far too easy to block and made it clear that Voldemort was just toying with him. As he ducked and cast his own spells that Voldemort seemed to anticipate, Harry reminded himself that there were no more Horcruxes left, that he stood a chance of finishing this once and for all.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” Voldemort said. “Tut, tut, tut. Surely you don’t think that this body of mine—where the last piece of my soul resides—would be any simpler to destroy than the other Horcruxes?”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Of course, Voldemort, an expert Legilimens, would be able to read his thoughts, and with the meagre practice that Harry had dedicated to Occlumency, there didn’t seem any point in trying to block them.

Voldemort gave a thin smiled and laughed. “Yes, you should just give up now. You cannot win. Getting rid of an inanimate object was such an easy task compared to trying to defeat me in person. Consider this, boy: you can’t kill me without destroying my body, but to destroy that, you’d have to kill me first.”

Voldemort sent off another barrage of hexes, and Harry retaliated feebly. So there really was no chance of success, Harry realised. If only he could escape, give himself more time to think of another solution.

“Escape? I don’t think so, Potter. Do you really think I’d let you get away from me again? _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Harry could only watch as his wand flew into the air and Voldemort stepped forward to catch it.

“Shall we get this over with, then?” Voldemort asked. Then, in one decisive motion, he snapped Harry’s wand in two.

Any thoughts of survival faded with the sound of his wand cracking. He could not think of any way to defeat Voldemort, even with his wand intact, but now, his fate seemed inevitable. He broke out in a cold sweat, and in a terror-stricken daze, he pulled himself upright and started to run for cover.

“Oh no, we can’t have that. _Crucio!_ ”

Harry collapsed, writhing on the floor in agony, screaming as pain flared through his body as though he was being sliced by white-hot knives. Then it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. Breathlessly, he tried to move his body, urged it to move. He succeeded in crawling a few inches before his hand touched something thin and wooden. Another wand, possibly Remus’s, possibly one of the Death Eater’s that Harry had struck down earlier. Just what he hoped to achieve with another wizard’s wand, he wasn’t sure.

In an instant, Harry sent the Cruciatus Curse back at Voldemort. Voldemort laughed and brought a hand to his nose.

“A nosebleed. How quaint.”

It was the wand that was partly to blame. Harry had felt the curse weaken and begin to dissipate as soon as it had left the tip. With the amount of hatred that he held for Voldemort, Harry was sure he could have done much more damage if he had had his own wand.

“I’m getting bored, Potter,” Voldemort said and he cast another hex that Harry didn’t recognise. It sent him flying and as he landed he heard a sickening crunch at the same time that a flash of pain shot through his right leg. “Time’s up. _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Pushing with his forearms, in one last desperate attempt to move out of the way, Harry managed to roll across the stupefied body of a Death Eater, which took the full force of the Killing Curse. The motionless face stared back at him, muddied and bloody, with a gaping mouth and half-closed eyes. Where there had once been life was nothing more than a vacant shell, an empty vessel.

Finally, Harry knew what he could do.

Clamping down hard on his thoughts, he focussed all of his pitiful Occlumency skills into that split second before he acted. Then he rolled over, pointed his wand and shouted, putting as much energy into the spell as he could muster.

“ _Animae Extorquere!_ ”

Purple light rushed from the end of the wand, just as before, hitting Voldemort squarely in the chest. With a small flick of his wrist, the stream of light connected with the Death Eater’s corpse. The wand began to shake furiously, and Harry held on, willing the spell to work. If he could separate what was left of Voldemort from his body, then perhaps it could be destroyed after all.

When the light had subsided, Voldemort stood rigidly like a statue. It had worked, and Harry wasted no time in firing a hex that left the empty body crumbling to dust. Behind him, he could hear a drawn-out, rasping breath, and he turned to see the Death Eater’s eyes glaring at him in hatred fighting to remain open. An arm twitched briefly, and then the eyes fell closed once more. At the same instant, Harry’s scar flared up, burning furiously, until gradually, the uncomfortable heat faded to a prickling sensation, and then petering out to nothing. All that was left was silence and an uneasy peace.

Harry slumped to the floor next to Remus as the sounds of the wood slowly filled the void: the distant trickle of a stream, branches rustling against each other in the breeze. Then from far off, he heard voices. As they drew nearer, Harry could see that it was Mr Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt who were charging through the undergrowth towards them.

“Mr Weasley,” Harry called out. “Remus is hurt.”

“Are you all right, Harry?” Mr Weasley asked, and he stooped to cast a charm that Harry did not recognise.

“Yes, but what about Remus?”

“He’s very weak.” Mr Weasley turned to Kingsley. “Could you Apparate to St. Mungo’s and get them to send an emergency team?”

“I’m right on it,” Kingsley said, and with a crack, he left.

Only moments later, several Medi-wizards had arrived. In the ensuing commotion, Harry let himself be pulled about by a stout witch, but he found it hard to care about his own injuries. Now that he knew that Remus was going to be all right, nothing else mattered. He feigned interest as Mr Weasley explained why he and Kingsley were there, until Ron and Hermione’s names were mentioned. Then Harry felt a stab of guilt when he realised that he had not spared a thought for either of them. He listened with relief to the news that the pair of them had made it safely to the edge of the wood, where they had been able to Apparate the rest of the way to The Burrow and get help.

The Medi-witch who had been assessing Harry’s injuries, insisted on casting a Sleeping Charm on Harry, so that he was as relaxed as possible for the journey to the hospital. It was only then he realised that one very important piece of news had been missed out.

“Mr Weasley,” he slurred with a genuinely satisfied smile, “it’s over. I’ve done it: Voldemort’s gone.”

**


	13. Epilogue

Harry stood on the threshold of the hospital ward, his hands fidgeting in his pockets out of nervousness. Next to him was Ron, who had insisted on accompanying him this far for moral support, and Harry was very grateful for him doing this, especially after what had happened between him and Hermione two nights ago. She had finally admitted that she thought they would be better off as friends, and Ron had been left in a bit of a mess at first.

When Hermione had left the following morning with Tonks to take a much-needed holiday in Romania where Ginny was staying, she did not want Ron to go with them. Harry had expected Ron to be devastated, but instead he had muttered something along the lines of Hermione being too much like his mother anyway. Feeling lost and alone, Harry offered Ron comfort, in fact offered him much more than that. Ron had declined awkwardly, saying that he needed time before getting involved with anyone else, and besides, he did not think that he could do any of ‘that stuff’ that men did together. Then he took Harry by surprise, pointing out it was obvious that Harry was just waiting for Remus to be well enough to leave St. Mungo’s. When Harry thought about it, this was something that he realised he could not deny.

Lying only feet away in the plain hospital bed was the man who Harry knew he still wanted, despite how old Remus had become.   The proud, strong man, who had been through so much and yet had managed to keep on going. There was the irresistible urge bubbling up inside again, the urge to give himself completely to Remus. To be there for him—especially when Remus’s pride would not let him ask for what was needed—to make him happy.

Harry felt a shove in the small of his back, reminding him of a similar prod that James had given him in the past. Only this time, Harry was more than willing to talk to Remus. He turned to face Ron and smiled, only to be pushed once more by his friend, who was now stepping back to let Harry do this alone.

“Hi,” he said feebly as he approached the bed. Remus opened his weary and bloodshot eyes. “Are you up to having a visitor?”

Remus grinned and gestured for Harry to sit in the chair next to him, pulling himself upright and wincing as he did so.

“How are you feeling, Remus?”

“I’ll be out of here soon enough.”

“And then what?”

There was no immediate reply. Remus studied him for a moment and then shook his head wistfully. “Back to the old routine, I suppose.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that. I mean, you and Tonks aren’t together anymore, and I thought—”

“Harry, I have a feeling what you’re about to say, and it won’t exactly be the most sensible suggestion you’ve come up with.”

“I don’t care,” Harry said defiantly, and then he softened his voice to add, “I never expected to become so attached to you, but I am—very much so.” Leaning forward, Harry took one of Remus’s frail hands and held it firmly. “I lost you once. I nearly lost you a second time, and now I don’t intend to let go of you again.” He could feel Remus’s hand begin to shake, and Harry clutched it tighter, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “Whether you want me or not, I’m yours.”

Remus pulled weakly, drawing Harry’s fingers to his dry mouth and brushing his lips across them. “It was your fault,” he said, finally. “I think it was you who made me fall in love with Sirius so deeply all those years ago.”

“Then let me make it up to you now.”

“I guess I’ll have to.”

Remus smiled, and Harry’s anxiety at being turned away dissipated. There was only one thing left to say.

“Er, you wouldn’t mind keeping it quiet for a while—until a certain someone has had time to get used to the idea?”

“I suppose that would be for the best,” Remus said with a knowing smirk. “After all, it’s one thing to face Voldemort and live to tell the tale, but to face Molly Weasley… well, I don’t think either of us is ready to take on that challenge just yet.”

***


End file.
